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OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 
























By permission j 


MOUNTAIN SCENERY 


AFTER ROSA BONHEUR 


\Goupii Co. 








































































































































































































NEW YORK : 

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, 416, BROOME STREET. 

1870. 

[Alt Rights reserved ] 


' fe A* / 


DUMB NEIGHBOURS; 


OR, 


CONVERSATIONS OF A FATHER WITH HIS CHILDREN 
ON DOMESTIC AND OTHER ANIMALS. 

By THOMAS JACKSON, M. A. 

PREBENDARY OF ST. PAUL’S AND RECTOR OF STOKE NEWINGTON ; 

AUTHOR OF “OUR DUMB COMPANIONS.” 

































v * p 


* 4 t 


♦* 

% 


V 4 


“ 1 'he hedrt is hard in nattirg, and Unfit 
For human fellowship ; as being void 
Of sympathy, and therefore dfead alike 
To love and friendship both, that is not pleased 
With sight of animals enjoying life, 

Nor feels their happiness augment his own.” 

■*> Gowfer. 

% 

» 


Exchange 

■Western Ont. Univ. Library 


DEC 13 1940 


London: R. Clay, Sous, and Taylor, Printers: 






























THE K 1 G 11 T HONOURABLE THE 


EARL or HARRGWBY* K.G. 


PRESIDENT 0^ 


THE ROYAL SOCIETY 


PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANUlAl.S 


%■ BLtclunnoiv, (tsq 


OT HER VIC E PR ESI DE N TS, 


THIS VOLUME IS, BY PERMISSION 


MOST CORDIALLY 


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Star 

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Every beast of the forest is mine , and the cattle upon 
a thousand hills. I know all the fowls of 
the mountains: and the wild beasts 
cf the field are mine. 

Psalm 1. io, n. 













































PREFACE. 

Many volumes have recently been published with the 
intention of presenting to young persons, in simple and 
attractive form, the solemn doctrine of the justice due 
to domestic animals, and the blessings which accompany 
the right treatment of these dumb companions. But 
the cruelties inflicted on horses, dogs, aud cats, are as 
nothing compared with the tortures endured by animals 
that are not, so to speak, immediately included in the 
social circle. Children and young persons accustomed to 
country life, while tender to animals which enjoy their 
friendship, will often wantonly inflict protracted and horrible 
pain on other animals, especially if they are popularly 




















PREFACE. 


viii 


called vermin . It is chiefly in the interest of these poor 
creatures, and through them of religion, humanity, and 
civilization, * that the present volume has been compiled. 
It is hoped that, like “ Our Dumb Companions,” it will 
occasionally he used in primary, secondary, and other schools, 
and offered as a reward to boys and girls distinguished 
for their gentleness towards the lower creation. 

The extirpation of so-called vermin may be sometimes a 
duty, but to put a poor animal to unnecessary torture is 
at all* times a crime, The improvement of public opinion, 
as to the treatment of the humblest beast and bird, is part 
of that general advance in civilization and humanity, which 
is equally favourable to the law of kindness and Christian 
love, as it respects every dealing between man and man. 

The Rectory, 

Stoke Newington, 



















CONTENTS. 

CONVERSATION I.—INTRODUCTORY. 


PAGE 

. 1 


CONVERSATION II. — THE RAT-VARIETIES OF—THE WATER VOLE-BLACK AND 

BROWN RATS—MR. WATERTON ON THE BLACK RAT-THE NEW ZEALANDER’S 

MORAL—RATS IN PARIS—MR. RODWELL’s DESCRIPTION—ORIGIN OF THE 

RAT-RAT-SKINS USED AS A MATERIAL FOR DRESS-TERRIERS AND OTHER 

DOGS—THE SKUNK—THE STOAT. .. 7 

b 




































X 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CONVERSATION III.-ANECDOTES OF RATS—THIEVES STOPPED BY RATS — THE 

SYDNEY CAPTAIN’S DEVICE—COOPER THORNHILL’S CORN-RICK DESTROYED 
BY RATS AND MICE—THE WEASEL—THE ERMINE.28 

CONVERSATION IV.-SWINE-OLD WILD BOARS—CARNIVOROUS POWER OF SWINE 

-VERY PROLIFIC—MUCH CALUMNIATED—LEARNED PIGS-POINTER PIGS 

-A TEAM OF HOGS—A BOAR TRAINED FOR THE SADDLE—SIR F. B. HEAD’S 

REMARKS . ;....; .... 33 

CONVERSATION V.-THE FOX-NOT OF THE DOG TRIBE-RARE CUNNING OF THE 

ANIMAL—DISLIKE OF THE CAT AND THE HORSE TO THE SMELL OF 
A FOX—MR. WOOD’S STORY .43 

CONVERSATION VI. — CATTLE—OXEN YOKED TO WAGGONS AND PLOUGHS-HORN¬ 

LESS Cattle — white cattle of chillingham — herds of oxen and 
COWS DANGEROUS WHEN ALARMED . . . . ;.49 

CONVERSATION VII.-SHEEP AND LAMBS—THEIR HISTORY AND HABITS ... 61 

CONVERSATION Vlli.—VARIETIES OF SHfcEP—SOUTHDOWN, MERINO, ETC. . . . 73 

CONVERSATION IX.—GOATS WELSH GOATS—THE IBEX THE CASHMERE GOAT 

THE GOAT AS A PERFORMER—THE FRIENDLY GOATS ;.85 

CONVERSATION X.-THE COMMON MOUSE AND l4s VARIETIES—HARVEST MOUSE 


—BARBARY MOUSE-HAMSTER-FIELD MOUSE — LEMMING-LABRADOR 

JUMPING MOUSE 98 

I 

CONVERSATION XI.-THE WEASEL—THE FERRET—FERRETS THE TYPE OF 


SLANDERERS—THE POLECAT FERRET—THE WEASEL AND THE RATS_ 

ANECDOTES OF WEASELS .121 











































CONTENTS. 



x i 


PAGE 

CONVERSATION XII.-THE GUINEA-PIG AND THE HARE ; ; „ , ; ; ; ; . 135 


CONVERSATION XIII.-RABBlfS. 141 

CONVERSATION XIV.-THE SQUIRREL—THE DORMOUSE 152 

CONVERSATION XV.-DEER 166 

CONVERSATION XVI.—CONCLUSION . 173 



dime meratiu matt 

vj 

boetb goob to Ins ohnt soul 
but be tljat is .cruel 
troubletb Ijis oixnx flcslj. 




























































CATTLE IN PASTURE 
MOTHER AND SON . 
SHEEP AND LAMBS . 


GOATS . 


TWO GOATS ON MOUNTAIN-PASS . 
FIELD-MOUSE AND NEST . . . 

GROUP OF BRITISH WEASELS . 
GIRL AND RABBITS . . . 

SQUIRREL WITn NUTS . . . , 

THE LITTLE FAVOURITE 


Subject. 

MOUNTAIN SCENERY . . . . 

RATS CARRYING EGGS UP-STAIRS 
FOXES. 


Artist. 

Rosa Bonkeur . 
Harrison Weir 
J. B. Zweclcer 
Rosa Bonkeur 

ij 


Page 

. FRONTISPIECE. 

6 
44 
49 
5G 
72 
84 
97 
110 
132 
142 
152 
169 


y> 

J. B. Zwecher . 

W. //. Freeman . 

Harrison Weir . 

Sir Edwin Landseer , B.A. . 
Harrison Weir . 

Sir Edwin Landseer, B.A. . 


FULL-PAGE 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 














































OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


CONVERSATION I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

Papa. 

“ Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast! 

Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 

And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups. 

That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, 

So let us welcome peaceful evening in.” 

Freddie. But liow shall we amuse 
ourselv es ? 

























2 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Papa. Let us converse about our Dumb Neighbours. 

Freddie. But who is my dumb neighbour ? Mary’s cat, 
or my dog Yido ? 

Papa . No, they are rather inmates of the same house, 
and humble members of the family. 

Mary. But suppose we were in Ireland, and had a pig 
to live with us in the same room; or, as is the case in 
Switzerland, cows, pigs, horses, and fowls in the lower story 
of the house ? Would they be neighbours or companions ? 



FEEDING BIRDS IN WINTER. 


Papa. Of course I am speaking of our neighbours and 
our companions in good old England; the best place to live 
in upon the face of the earth, notwithstanding all its faults. 

Mary. Then the robin that comes to be fed every winter’s 
morning when the snow is on the ground; and the sparrow, 
that useful under-gardener, who if he steals a little mustard 
and cress, spoiling the outline of my initials in the early 
spring, lives on grubs and other insects which, if not checked, 
















INTRODUCTORY. 3 


would soon grow as numerous as a plague of locusts; and 
tlie beautiful squirrel; and the timorous hare that flits across 
my path ;—these are some of my pleasant neighbours. 

Tom. And the rat— 

Mary. He is a felon by nature ! 

Papa . The type and the parable of renegades and turn¬ 
coats— 

Tom. Who steals my fish— 

Mary. Who worries my chickens; who carried away 
Grandmother’s best lace cap. 

Papa. Nay, Mary, that will never do. A rat, strange 
as the statement may seem at first sight, lias an office 
to perform and a work to do in the boundless creation 
of the living and merciful God. We may ki|J. him, but it 
ought to be done with as little pain to the poor animal as 
possible. 

Tom. But, Papa, our neighbours must be very numerous, 
then. While you speak, I feel something like William 
Cowper, the favourite poet. He describes his sensations on 
taking a walk in the country. I cannot help quoting the 
passage, because I think that it thoroughly harmonizes with 
Papa’s intentions in asking us to converse about our dumb 
neighbours, 

Papa. That’s right, my lad. Cowper is the true poet of 
country life, of country scenes, and quiet home recreations. 
He could be innocently jocular, for he wrote “ Johnny Gilpin.” 
He was always serious and religious, and I am sorry to think 
that he is comparatively little read and appreciated by the 
youth of the present age. Well, now for your passage from 
Cowper. 













OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Here unmolested, through whatever sign 
The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, 
Nor freezing sky, nor sultry, checking me, 
Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy. 
E’en in the spring and playtime of the 
year, 

That calls the unwonted villager abroad 
With all her little ones, a sportive train 
To gather king-cups in the yellow mead, 
And prink their hair with daisies, or to 
pick 

A cheap but wholesome salad from the 
brook, 

These shades are all my own. The 
timorous hare, 

















































INTRODUCTORY. 


5 


Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, 

Scarce shuns me ; and the stockdove, unalarm’d, 

Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends 
His long love-ditty for my near approach. 

Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, 

That age or injury has hollow’d deep, 

Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves, 

He has outslept the winter, ventures forth, 

To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, 

The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play : 

He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, 

Ascends the neighbouring beech ; there whisks his brush, 
And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, 

With all the prettiness of feign’d alarm, 

And anger insignificantly fierce. 

The heart is hard m nature, and unfit 
For human fellowship, as being void 
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
To love and friendship both, that is not pleased 
With sight of animals enjoying life, 

Nor feels their happiness augment his own.” 


Mary. Thank you, Tom; now with what animal shall we 
begin our conversations ? 

Papa. I propose that we shall take the Hat first, because, 
in the opinion of you all, he has not a single redeeming 
quality. 

Freddie. The other day, as I was walking by the river¬ 
side, I saw a beautiful little creature sitting on a stone in 
the stream, with a piece of succulent root between its fore¬ 
paws, and nibbling its repast in perfect peace with every 
living thing. It was timid and innocent in the expression 
of its countenance. Its colour was of a reddish brown. It 
was about as large as the common rat of the sewers, but 
its tail was much shorter, and covered with hair. I took 







































OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


6 


quite a liking to the little creature. I cannot think that he 
ought to be classed with the creatures you have just alluded to. 

Tom. Hats are ingenious little creatures; they have 
actually been known to convey eggs up a staircase, from 
the pantry to their nest! Here is a beautiful picture, by 
Mr. Harrison Weir, from the “ Children’s Friend,” shewing 
how they did it. 

Papa. The rat of which Freddie speaks hears little resem¬ 
blance to the rats with which we are chiefly acquainted, 
namely, the black rat, the albino or white rat, and the 
brown rat. But we must not anticipate. After supper we 
will renew our conversation, and see what facts and opinions 
we can contribute to the common stock of information. True 
conversation ought to be a picnic of thought, in which each 
guest brings something to the intellectual feast, 

Mary. Then one speaker ought not to monopolize the 
whole of the conversation. 

Papa. No, indeed, for then the charm of conversation 
disappears. 











r. t>. 


RATS CARRYING EGGS UP STAIRS 

































































































































































































































THE WATER RAT. 


CONVERSATION II. 

THE RAT-VARIETIES OF-THE WATER VOLE-BLACK AND BROWN RATS-MR. 

WATERTON ON THE BLACK RAT—THE NEW ZEALANDER’S MORAL—RATS IN 
PARIS — MR. RODWELL’S DESCRIPTION — ORIGIN OF THE RAT — RAT-SKINS 
USED AS A MATERIAL FOR DRESS—TERRIERS AND OTHER DOGS—THE SKUNK 
-THE STOAT. 

Papa. One of you just now spoke of a quiet unobtrusive 
grass-eating rat which lives and dies by the side of remote 
and secluded streams. It is the Water Vole, or Water Eat, 
that is, the Arvicola of Cuvier, who divides the genus into 
four species :—the Water Vole (Mus ampliibius , Linnaeus); 
the Alsatian Vole (Mus terrestris ), the Meadow Vole [Mus 
arvalis), and the Economic Vole (Mus ceconomicus ). On 
no account disturb this little creature. The race is not 
numerous; it has young but twice in the year, and very 
few at a birth. 




































8 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Mary . Some months ago, when the workmen were pulling 
clown some houses in London, in order to construct a 
new railway, diligent search was made by naturalists for 
specimens of the old English black rat. It appears that 
the species is getting comparatively scarce. The brown rat 
has superseded it. 

Tom. Yes. Do you remember the story that the amusing 
traveller and naturalist, Mr. Waterton, once rode fifty miles 
to see one, and that when he beheld it, he exclaimed, “ Poor 
injured Briton, hard indeed has been the fate of thy family ! 
In another generation at furthest, the last specimen of the 
black rat will have sunk down into the dust.” 

Mary. Did not Mr. Waterton think that the black rat 
was destroyed by the brown rat, which is the larger and 
the stronger animal, and that the brown rat first came over 



THE BLACK RAT. 


in the ship which brought Prince George of Hanover to 
England, being seen swimming in shoals round her hull ? 





















THE MAORI AND THE RAT. 


9 


Papa. This seems to be a mistake. Both the black and 
the brown rat are so fierce that they will destroy each other, 
but sometimes they live in perfect harmony. Indeed, not¬ 
withstanding the antagonism that is generally supposed to 
exist between the black and brown races of rats, it is well 
known that they do intermingle in the breeding season, and 
the effect of this is that the descendants of the black 
rat become gradually lighter; and it is probable enough 
that after a few generations, the entire breed will become 
confirmed brown rats; while the old black rats, having lived 
as long as nature will allow them, cease to exist, and the 
race becomes extinct. 

Preddie. I remember to have read that once a missionary 
clergyman found a Maori, or aboriginal New Zealander, 
reclining on the ground, and show¬ 
ing signs of the most poignant 
distress. “ What is the matter with 
you?” asked the missionary. “I am 
watching,” he replied, “ this little 
native rat* It will soon be utterly 
extinct ; not one specimen will 
survive* It is eaten up and super¬ 
seded by the big brown rat you 
have brought in your ships from 
England. It is the type of me and 
of my people. We also are disap¬ 
pearing from the face of the earth.’* 

Papa. W T hen in New Zealand 
the same anecdote from an intelligent colonist. The natives 
have been known to waste away, without any symptoms 

c 



NEW ZEALANDER. 


some years ago, I heard 












10 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


of disease, and from sheer sickness of soul—a sort of self- 
abandonment that ended in atrophy and death. 

Mary. Eut to return to the black rat. That he sometimes 
lives on terms of perfect friendship with his big brown brother 
is proved by a curious record preserved in the municipal 
archives of Paris. After the Eevolution of 1848, and the 
breaking down of the Republican Government, the palace 
of the Tuileries was left uninhabited, and a vast multitude of 
black and brown rats established themselves in the cellars of the 
royal castle. Some old shoes, old hats, and sacks of potatoes, 
which had been left in the cellars, amply served them for 
provisions, and as there is a direct communication between 
the cellars and the river Seine, they had every thing they 
required to lead a joyous life. They then began to make 
excursions into the houses of the Eue de Eivoli. The in¬ 
habitants complained to the Prefect of the Seine, and orders 
were given to the person charged with the destruction of 
the vermin of the capital, to organize a razzia against the 
intruders. On entering the cellars, he found a complete mass 
of black and brown rats living on terms of the most brotherly 
concord. In consequence of crossing the breed, many of 
them were dark on the back with white bellies and tails. 
The rat-catcher began to set his traps, and by the following 
morning he had killed 847 fine specimens. According to 
custom, their tails were cut off, and sent to the Hotel de 
Yille, in order to support the claim for the usual reward. 

Freddie. The Welsh call the black rat the Prench mouse; 
so I think we may safely come to the conclusion as to which 
country the black rats would call their fatherland, were they 
gifted with powers of speech. I never saw a black rat in 














RATS TO BE FOUND IN ALL COUNTRIES. 11 


my life—that is to say, a large-eared, sharp-nosed, fierce-eyed, 
scaly-tailed, sable-coated, real, unsophisticated mus rattus. 

Papa. It is remarkable that no classical writer speaks 
of rats. They are supposed to have come from the East in 
the sixteenth century; but such is the astonishing fecundity 
of the animal that now they are found in every part of the 
civilized world. They travel down to, and multiply in, the 
deepest mine. They hide themselves on hoard ship, and in 
their desire to get at water, sometimes try to bore through 
the thickest and hardest timber. 

In markets and menageries they 
are innumerable. You may see 
them swimming, skipping, crawl¬ 
ing by thousands in the Jardin 
des Plantes at Paris. I have 
sometimes walked across the old 
Marche de St. Ilonore late at 
night, and startled hundreds of 
them as they were preying on 
the garbage and offal left by the 
market people. There we find a 
use for them in the economy of creation. The quantity of 
corrupted matter which they absorb and assimilate would he 
enough to breed a pestilence. So that you see the rat is 
not without its value. 

Freddie. Put now, Papa, you are speaking of the common 
brown rat. 

Papa. Yes. Buffon and Cuvier style it the Surmulot. 

Mary. Can you give us any account of its colour, parts, 
and proportions ? 













12 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Papa. In reply to that question, I think that I cannot do 
better than quote from Mr. James Eodwell’s instructive and 
amusing volume, entitled “ The Hat.” He says : “ The brown 
rat is the largest species of the genus that occurs with us. Its 
body is rather elongated and full; the limbs short and mode¬ 
rately strong; the neck short; the head of moderate size, com- 



THE BROWN RAT. 


pressed, and rather pointed; the ears are short and round; the 
tail long, tapering to a point, and covered with 200 rows of 
scales. On the fore feet are four toes, of which the two middle 
are much the longest; the soles are hare, and have five promi¬ 
nent papillae. The hind feet have five toes, of which the three 
middle are the longest, and nearly equal, the first shorter than 
the fifth; the sole is hare up to the heel, and has six papillae. 
The general colour of the upper parts is reddish brown; the 
long hairs are black at the end, the lower parts greyish white. 
On the feet the hairs are very short, whitish and glistening; 
the claws are horn-coloured, or greyish yellow.” 












WHENCE CAME THE BROWN RAT? 13 


Mary. Besides the black and brown, Cuvier gives accounts 
of seventy-two different kinds of rats, each of which has its 
native locality, and which it seldom or never quits, except by 
force or accident. But the black and brown rats are citizens 
of every genial portion of the globe, and seem to say the world 
is theirs, for they go where they like and do as they please. 
Now it may be asked, from whence came they? Ay, there’s 
the puzzle; for I know of no animals in the whole range of 
natural history wherein there is so much discrepancy of opinion 
as to the land of their nativity, or such conflicting testimony 
adduced by the various philosophers as to which country has 
the honour of claiming these little truants as its legitimate 
offspring.* Some naturalists believe these came from the East 
Indies; others believe they came from the West. Many assert 
they came from Norway, while others maintain that they were 
common in England before the Norwegians even heard of 
them. 

Tom. It may surprise some sticklers for the Scandinavian 
origin, to know that this rat was brought to England from the 
Indies and Persia in 1730; that in 1750 the breed made its 
way to Erance, and its progress over Europe has since then 
been more or less rapid; and that when Pallas was travelling 
in Southern Russia he saw the first detachment arrive, near 
the mouth of the Volga, in 1766. 

Some respectable authorities state that the brown rat came 
from Persia and the southern regions of Asia, and that the 
fact is rendered sufficiently evident from the testimonies of 

* Cuvier says that this animal did not pass into Europe till the eighteenth century. He 
further observes that it appears to belong to Persia, where it lives in burrows, and that it 
was not till 1727 that, after an earthquake, it arrived at Astrachan, by crossing the Volga. 
















14 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Pallas and P. Cuvier. Pallas describes the migratory nature 
of these rats, and states that in the autumn of 1729 they 
arrived at Astrachan, in Russia, in such incredible numbers 
that nothing could be done to oppose them. They came from 
the western deserts, and even the waves of the Volga did not 
arrest their progress. 

Papa. Some say that their first arrival was on the coast 
of Ireland, in those ships that used to trade in provisions 
to Gibraltar, and that perhaps we owe to a single couple of 
these animals the numerous progeny now infesting the whole 
extent of the British empire. Mr. Newman asserts that we 
received the rat from Hanover, whence it was called the 
Hanoverian rat. 

Tom. Pennant says that the brown rat came to England in 
1728, and to Paris twenty years later ; but a modern writer 
asserts that they appeared in Erance in the middle of the 
sixteenth century, and were first observed in Paris. Buffon 
says that it is uncertain from whence they came, though it 
was only ten years before that they 
arrived in Prance, and this I believe to 
be about the true state of the case; 
though the Egyptians maintain that 
they were made out of the mud of the 
Nile, and assert that they have seen 
them in the process of formation, being 
half rat, half mud. 

George . Among the practical uses to 
which rats may be put, the following is 
amusing, though it may be doubted 
whether many persons will be inclined to follow the example 













A HAT-SKIN SUIT OF CLOTHES. 


15 


here set them. An ingenious individual of Liskeard, Corn¬ 
wall, has for some time past been exhibiting himself in a dress 
composed from top to toe of rat-skins, which he has been 
collecting for three years and a half. The dress was made 
entirely by himself: it consists of hat, neckerchief, coat, waist¬ 
coat, trowsers, tippet, gaiters, and shoes. The number of rats 
required to complete the suit was 670; and the individual, 
when thus dressed, appears exactly like one of the Esquimaux 
described in the travels of Parry 
and Ross. The tippet, or boa, is 
composed of the pieces of skin im¬ 
mediately round the tails of the 
rats, and is a very curious part 
of the dress, containing about 
600 tails—and those none of the 
shortest. 

Freddie. A lady in Glasgow 
has just now a pair of shoes, of 
exquisite workmanship, the upper 
parts being made of the skins of 
rats. The leather is exceedingly smooth, and as soft as the 
finest kid, and appears stout and firm. It took six skins to 
make the pair of shoes, as the back of the skin is the only 
part stout enough for use. 

Mary. That the temper and habits of animals represent 
the vices and virtues of mankind, and are a sort of living 
metaphor or parable, is a doctrine as old and as universal as 
civilization itself. Thus we say, “ Proud as a peacock,” 
“ Cunning as a fox,” “ Slippery as an eel,” “ Bold as a lion,” 
“ Ravenous as a wolf,” “ Swift as an antelope,” “ Perocious 




















16 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


as a tiger.” Why do we attach the name of a rat to the 
politician who gives up his principles in order to promote 
his advancement ? 

Papa. An amusing story is told of Dr. Musgrave, 
afterwards the genial Archbishop of York, illustrating this 
use of the word rat. Mr. Copley, afterwards Lord Lynd- 
liurst, was, in early life, a zealous Whig. On his accepting 
office under a Tory administration, and while canvassing 
the University of Cambridge, he called on his old friend 
Musgrave, and asked him for his vote. Honest Tom, 
as he was called, is said to have answered, “ I am a 
Whig still, Sir.” Now Musgrave had a dog, which, 
though attached to his master, was fierce and hold. He 
happened to he crouching beneath the chair on which the 
candidate was seated. Musgrave, with cynical humour, 
advised Copley to beware of that dog. “ Dor,” added 
Musgrave, “ he’s a terrible fellow for rats! ” 

Mary. I heard a remarkable story yesterday about a 
rat emptying an oil bottle, which will amuse you. Mr. 
Bramhall, the silversmith, of Gloucester Street, Clerkenwell, 
states that for a long time he constantly found the oil 
bottle attached to his lathe emptied of its contents. Various 
plans were devised to find out the thief, hut without success.. 
At last Mr. Bramhall determined to watch. Through a 
hole in the door he peeped for some time; at length he 
heard a gentle noise. Something was creeping up the frame¬ 
work of the lathe. It was a fine rat! Planting itself on the 
edge of the lathe, the ingenious creature dropped its tail inside 
the bottle, then drew it out and licked off the oil. This it con¬ 
tinued to do until nearly every drop of oil was extracted. 














THE MISSING SPANIEL. 


17 


Charlotte . I had not intended telling any stories to-night 
about dogs, hut I heard one yesterday which I should like 
you to hear. 

Once on a time Mr. Gilbert of Torpoint, Devon, lost a 
young and handsome spaniel dog, upon which he set great 
value, and accordingly advertised it repeatedly in the local 
papers, offering a liberal reward for its recovery. One day, after 
the nomination held at the Town-hall of Devonport was over, 
Mr. Gilbert repaired with some of his political partisans to 
the hostelry of Mrs. Hyne, in Pore-street, where some very 
pleasant 4 c small talk” was indulged in. Presently * however, 
most of the company adjourned, leaving Mr. Gilbert to think 
that, if he did not soon he off too, he should be left to the 
study of his own reflections. He was seated near the window 
in the bar of the house, wondering if ever he should find his 
canine companion again—one who always stuck by his side 
however often other people thought proper to estrange them¬ 
selves. While in this mood, what, remarkable to say, should 
catch his eye but his missing dog, which was trotting slowly 
up the street. With great joy Mr. Gilbert, who instantly 
recognised it, ran into the street and, catching it up in his 
arms, ran hack into the bar with it. On calling the dog by 
its name, it leaped and sprang with all that excessive joy so 
peculiar to its faithful nature, positively licking the very hoots 
of its old master. Mr. Gilbert was followed into the house by 
a tradesman’s wife in Devonport, who very indignantly de¬ 
manded his authority for stealing her husband’s dog. He 
said he had missed it, and it was his property. This she 
denied, and a short 44 banter” ensued. Presently her lord 
and master came to the rescue, and although the dog was 

D 













18 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


called by the name he had given it, it refused to stir from 
under the legs of its old master, although nearly two months 
had elapsed since it had seen his face. It was stated that the 
dog had about five or six weeks previously (sometime after it 
was missed by Mr. Gilbert) followed its new master while on 
a visit to the neighbourhood .of Saltasli, and lie brought it to 
Devonport, where his wife and children had fed it and had be¬ 
come much attached to it. Mutual concessions, however, were 
eventually arrived at, and the dog, having extended his paAV in 
wishing his new Devonport friends adieu, resumed his wonted 
habitation under the care of his old master. 

Tom. I also claim permission to add my story. 

We have the following announcement in one of the Austrian 

papers : “ Captain G-, seriously wounded in the head, has 

returned to Vienna with his dog!” Thereby hangs a pretty 
tale of canine affection and sagacity. The captain was 
wounded at Magenta in 1859, and lay out on the battle-field; 
be was missed, and no tidings could be had of him by the men 
of his regiment. But he had at the time a young dog, which 
had become much attached to him. It occurred to his groom 
that through the agency of this little favourite of his master 
he might discover him, and so he took the dog with him to 
the field, and amongst a heap of dead the poor thing dis¬ 
covered the badly wounded officer, and howled piteously to 
attract the groom’s attention. The master was brought in, 
and he considered he owed his life to the dog, and became 
more attached to him than ever. This officer was again 
wounded in the retreat from Koniggratz, in 1867, and again 
was missed. Of course it occurred to his brother officers who 
had heard the former story, to try again the former agency of 























A DOG ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 19 


discovery. The dog, now grown old and sage, was brought 
out, and after a loug search set up once more its melancholy 
cry, and was found rubbing its anxious nose to its master’s 

pallid face. Cajitain G-was again only wounded, but very 

badly. He was sent down to Vienna, and as he drove through 
the city, lying prostrate in a carriage, it was noticed that a 
poor dog, with anxious and sympathetic eye, lay with his head 
upon his breast. The anxiety of the officer to reach Vienna 
and to live was noticed as strange for one of well-known 
bravery, who had a hundred times unflinchingly faced death. 
But his first request was for a notary, and he hastened to 
make a will, leaving a certain annuity to a relative, on con¬ 
dition of his taking charge of his best of friends, liis little 
dog,"'and of watching tenderly over its comfort for the rem¬ 
nant of its days. This was the secret of his anxiety to 
survive. “Now,” he said, “if it be God’s will, I am content 
to die.” But I am happy to say there are strong hopes of 
saving the gallant gentleman’s life, and that it is highly 
probable he will himself enjoy the agreeable duty of giving 
the greatest of all happiness to his dumb friend, and that 
will be his own society. 

Freddie . I have here a beautiful picture of a dog at the 
grave of his mistress. But I am getting tired of these dog 
tales. Ho, Papa, resume the thread of your narrative. 

Tom. There is another animal yet more symbolical of 
characters to be found in every neighbourhood, and sometimes 
developed among the lads of a public school. He is civil, and 
complimentary. He alternately fawns on and patronises his 
unsuspecting victim. But if you differ from him or thwart 
some scheme of ambition, on which lie has set his heart, he 






















20 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS 



THE FAVOURITE DOG AT THE GRAVE. 


will assail you with every variety of calumny, and heap on 
you every epithet of abuse. lie is represented in the animal 




































































THE SKUNK. 21 


creation by the skunk, pre-eminent in the utter noisomeness of 
the stench which it exhales when annoyed or alarmed. Should 
but a single drop of the horrid secretion formed in some glands 
near the insertion of the tailj and which can be retained or 



ejected at will, fall on the dress or the skin, it is hardly 
possible to relieve the tainted object of its disgusting in¬ 
ti uence. A dog whose coat had suffered from a discharge of 
a skunk’s battery, retained the stencil for so long a time, that 
even after a week had elapsed, it rendered a table useless by 
rubbing itself against one of the legs, although its fur had 
been repeatedly washed. The odour of this substance is so 
penetrating that it taints everything that may be near the 
spot on which it has fallen, and renders them quite useless. 
Provisions rapidly become uneatable, and clothes are so satu¬ 
rated with the vapour that they will retain the smell for 
several weeks, even though they are repeatedly washed and 
dried. It is said that if a drop of the odorous fluid should 
fall upon the eyes, it will deprive them of sight. Several 

















22 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Indians were seen by Mr. Gresham who had lost the use of 
their eyes from this cause. 

Mr. Audubon has recorded a curious adventure which befell 
him in his younger days. In one of his accustomed rambles 
he suddenly came upon a curious little animal, decorated with a 
parti-coloured coat and bushy tail, and so apparently gentle in 
demeanour that he was irresistibly impelled to seek a nearer 
acquaintance. As he approached, the creature did not attempt 
to run away, but awaited his coming with perfect equanimity. 
Deceived by its gentle aspect, he eagerly ran towards the 
tempting prize, and grasped it by its bushy tail, which it had 
raised perpendicularly as if for the purpose of inviting him to 
make the assault. He soon repented of his temerity, for lie 
had hardly seized the animal when he was overwhelmed with 
a most horrible substance. His eyes, mouth, and nostrils were 
equally offended. After this adventure he became very cautious 
with respect to pretty little animals with white backs and 
bushy tails. 

Charlotte . I have just come from my visit to our Aunt. 
They caught a poacher for us. The game-keeper brought him 
up to the house, with a cord round his neck. 

Papa. I hope it wasn’t old Brown, our incorrigible 
neighbour down at the mill cottage. I am always afraid 
that I shall have to go bail for Brown, who will not let the 
pheasants alone. 

Charlotte. Brown? No, papa, it was not. Our poacher 
was nothing like the size of Browm. 

Freddie. One of the gipsy tinker’s children, perhaps ? 

Charlotte. No, it was nothing but a stoat! The servants 
found its nest. In it were two young rabbits and a bird’s nest 
























THE STOAT, A POACHER. 


23 


i and eggs, The stoat and the water-vole are thorough enemies, 
The stoat swims tolerably well, hut the water-vole generally 
escapes by his superior skill. 

Mary. I remember to have read in the Ilev. J. Gr. Wood's 
Natural History the following facts about the stoat:—That the 
silent, soft-footed, gliding stoat steals quietly on its victim 
without alarming it by violent demonstrations, soothes it to 
its death, and kills it daintily. Be it noticed that there are 
human types of the stoat, or rather that the visible animal is 



THE STOAT. 


but an outward emblem of the inward nature. Birds’ nests 
of all kinds are plundered by this incorrigible poacher, for 
its quick eye and keen nose enable it to discover a nest, 
be it ever so carefully hidden; its agile limbs .and sharp claws 
give it the power of climbing any tree-trunk, and of clinging 
to any branch which will bear the weight of a nest and eggs; 
while its little and serpent-like body enables it to insinuate 
itself into any crevice that is sufficiently large to afford ingress 
























24 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



thrush’s nest. 


and egress to the parent birds. The 
pheasant and partridge are said to 
be sad sufferers from the stoat, 
which is mercilessly slain by the 
keepers with the aid of traps or 
gun, the former being the prefer¬ 
able mode of destroying “vermin.” 
When the female stoat is providing 
for the wants of a young family, 
she forages far and wide for her 
offspring, and lays up the produce 
of her chase in certain cunningly 
contrived larders. In a wood belonging to Lord Bagot, a 
stoat nursery was discovered, having within it no less than six 

inhabitants, a mother and her five 
young. Their larder was supplied 
with five hares and four rabbits, 
neither of which had been the 
least mangled, with the exception 
of the little wound that had caused 
their death. In another nest of 
stoats were found a number of 
small animals, such as field-mice, 
birds, and frogs, all packed away 
in a very methodical manner. In 
two nests which were found in 
Tollymore Park, the stoats had laid up an abundance of 
provision. In one of them there were six or seven mice, 
besides other small animals, all laid with their heads in 
the same direction. In the other nest v r as a more extensive 















STOATS. 25 


assortment of dead animals. A dozen mice, a young* rabbit, 
and a young hare were laid in the storehouse, together with 
the feathers and tail of a wood¬ 
cock, showing that even that wary 
bird had fallen a victim to the 
stoat. 

Tom. Although the stoat is so 
formidable a foe to rats and mice, 
and destroys annually such num¬ 
bers of these destructive animals, 
it sometimes happens that the 
clever thieving animal finds its 
intended prey to be more than its 
match, and is forced ignominiously 
to yield the contest. One of these animals was seen in chase 
of a rat, which it was following by scent, and at a great pace. 
After a while* the stoat overtook the rat, and would have 
sprung upon her, had not its purpose been anticipated by a 
sndden attack from the rat, which turned to bay, and fiercely 
flitng herself with open jaws on her pursuer. The stoat was 
sd startled at this unexpected proceeding, that it fairly turned 
tail and ran away. The rat now took up the pursuit and 
chased the stoat with such furious energy that she drove her 
enemy far from the place. It is probable that the rat had a 
young family at hand, and was urged to this curious display of 
courage by the force of motherly feelings* A stoat has been 
knoAvn to attack a weasel. This was indeed “ diamond cut 
diamond! ” 

Papa. The stoat has active limbs, sharp teeth, and a fero¬ 
cious disposition; so that even a single stoat would be an 

E 
























26 QUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


unpleasant opponent for an unarmed man. But if several stoats 
should unite to attack a single man, lie would find himself in 
bad case, armed or not. Such a circumstance has been lately 
communicated to me, my informant having heard it from the 
lips of the principal actor in the scene. 

A gentleman was walking along a road near Cricklade, 
when he saw two stoats sitting in the path. He picked up a 
stone, and cruelly flung it at the animals, one of which was 
struck, and was knocked over by the force of the blow. The 
other stoat immediately uttered a loud and peculiar cry, which 
was answered by a number of its companions, who issued 
from a neighbouring hedge* and sprang upon their assailant, 
running up his body with surprising rapidity* and striving to 
reach his neck. As soon as he saw the stoats coming to the 
attack, he picked up a handful of stones, thinking that he 
should be able to repel his little enemies, but they came boldly 
on, in spite of the stones and of his stick. Most provi¬ 
dentially a sharp wind happened to be blowing on that day, 
and he had wound a thick woollen comforter round his neck, 
so that he was partially protected. 

Binding that he had no chance of beating off the perti¬ 
nacious animals, he flung his stick down, fixed his hat firmly 
over his temples, and, pressing his hands to his neck 3 so as to 
guard that perilous spot as much as possible from the sharp 
teeth of the stoats, set off homewards as fast as he could run. 
By degrees several of the animals dropped off, but others 
clung so determinedly to their opponent, that when he ar¬ 
rived at his stables, no less than five stoats were killed by his 
servants as they hung on his person. His hands, face, and 
part of his neck were covered with wounds; but owing to the 
















A MAN HUNTED BY STOATS. 


27 


presence of mind with which he had defended his neck, the 
large blood-vessels had escaped without injury. The distance 
from the spot where he had been attacked to his own house 
was nearly four miles. He paid a severe penalty for his 
thoughtless cruelty. 























CONVERSATION III. 

ANECDOTES OF RATS-THIEVES STOPPED BY RATS—THE SYDNEY CAPTAIN’S DEVICE- 

cooper Thornhill’s corn-rick destroyed by rats and mice—the weasel 
—the ermine. 

Papa. Since our 
last conversation, I 
have been making 
inquiries in several 
directions about rats 
and their habits. An 
old rat-catcher has 
told me that he once 
killed 1490 in taking 
down one old-stand¬ 
ing wheat-rick. The 
quantity of grain de¬ 
stroyed by the rats was enormous, and at that time corn 
fetched from 75s. to 85s. a quarter. 

Mary . They carry about with them, says a writer in 
Bentley's Miscellany , four formidable weapons in the shape 
of long, sharp teeth,—two in the front of the upper jaw, 
and two corresponding in the lower. 

They sometimes unite in great bodies and will attack men. 
A few years ago four condemned criminals made their escape 
from Newgate by descending from a closet into the sewer ; 
having formed the daring project of proceeding along it to the 
river Thames. But when they got as far as Pleet Market, 















HOW THE CAPTAIN GOT HID OE THE RATS. 


29 


they were beset on every side by such legions of rats that the 
unhappy men screamed with agony. The people above, hear- 
; ing their cries, tore up the iron gratings, and hoisted them 
out, when they were only too glad to be taken back safely 
to prison. 

Mary . If there are rats in a house, we young folks 
should always remember that they are very great thieves. 
They sometimes steal things that cannot be of the slightest use 
to them: a lace cap, a Paisley shawl, or even a shoe, may help 
to line a nest, or appease hunger; but what shall we say of 
the well-authenticated story of the farm bailiff who laid his 
watch on a table in his bedroom before retiring to rest, and 
was awoke by a crash of something that had fallen, and a 
rattling sound, as of something being dragged along the 
floor ? He immediately got up and discovered that his watch 
was gone. He lost no time in pursuing the thief, following 
the direction of the sound, when he came upon the watch 
at the mouth of a rat’s hole, into which the rat had entered, 
taking with him the whole of the guard-chain, and was only 
prevented from taking the watch by the case springing open 
from the fall, which made it require more room than the hole 
would admit. As it was, the rat did not seem disposed to 
lose his prize, but kept a firm hold of the guard, when the 
owner tried to pull it from him. 

Freddie. Do you remember, Papa, telling me an amusing 
story of the manner in which an English captain cleared his 
vessel of rats while he was lying at anchor in Sydney 
harbour ? He shifted the berth of his ship so as to place it 
alongside a barge full of rich cheeses. The keen scent of 
his rats soon found out the cheese, and in a single night 


















30 


QUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


all the vermin had departed! He then removed to a con¬ 
siderable distance in the harbour, 
and saw no more of the rats. 

Mary . Here let me say one 
word ; If a child meets a rat, the 
best thing is at once to run away. 
Terror and opposition exasperate 
all the rat’s dangerous qualities. 
The instinct of self-preservation 
makes him fly at you, if you will 
not let him fly from you. Give 
him a way of escape and he will go. 

Freddie. But though the rat is a queer-tempered animal, 
and delights in nothing more than eating up his own children, 
he sometimes becomes sincerely attached to human beings. 
You remember little Charlie, who, though he found Latin 
difficult, and Euclid insupportable, was so clever and observant 
of beasts and birds. One day I remember his mother saying 
to him, “ Have you got any rats in your pockets, Charlie, 
to show your friends ? ” and immediately opening the breast¬ 
pocket of his overcoat, lie showed me two fat brown rats, 
their noses just peering out of the edge of the pocket. “ Ah, 
Ereddie!” said he, “if you ever make a friend of a rat, he 
will stick to you faithfully all the days of your life. I have 
half-a-dozen beautiful Albinos in a cave which I have made 
in the garden.” 

Tom. During the last century there lived at Stilton, a 
man named Cooper Thornhill, who was very famous for his 
cheeses; in fact, some people have attributed to him the 
invention of Stilton cheese. He acquired considerable fame 













RICKS DESTROYED BY RATS. 31 


from having ridden faster and farther in a shorter space of 
time than any of the men of his day who had attempted 
similar feats on horseback. Brav^- 
ley, who wrote in the year 1808, 
records of this inn-keeper that he 
had a corn-rick of the value of 
eight hundred pounds at Stilton, 
which, though placed on high 
stones, was found to have the 
whole inside eaten through by rats 
and mice, when intended to be 
threshed. 

The compiler of “ Cook’s Topo¬ 
graphy,” who wrote his work soon after Brayley’s was 



published, speaks of “ the celebrated Cooper Thornhill, of 
equestrian celebrity; but still more famed through the 





















32 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


destruction of his large corn-rick by rats and mice.” Such 
is fame! 

Charlotte. I have heard that the celebrated ermine fur 
which is in such general favour, is produced by an animal 
that is precisely the same as the stoat. In fact, the stoat 
is a variety of weasel. 

Tom. Some people say that the weasel cannot be tamed. 
I know that to be wrong, for I have taught them to feed 
out of my own hand. 

Mary. Papa, what are weasels like? I never saw one. 

Papa. I have several pictures of them and their varieties, 
which you shall see when we come to speak of weasels. 

Freddie. Do not forget that the little ermine supplies the 
fur of the robes of the judges. Hence we say* the judicial 
ermine. It forms the type and sign of the office and dignity 
of a judge. 



Papa. The word ermine is a corruption of Armenian. 
The ermine is often called the Armenian weasel, because it 
is plentiful in that country. 













WILD BOA It 


CONVERSATION IV. 

SWINE—OLD WILD BOARS—CARNIVOROUS POWER OF SWINE —VERY PROLIFIC MUCH 

CALUMNIATED LEARNED PIGS—POINTER PIGS A TEAM OF HOGS—A BOAR 

TRAINED FOR THE SADDLE-SIR F. B. HEAD’S REMARKS. 

Papa. Let us, this evening, have some talk about swine. 
We shall treat our poor pigs with the greater kindness if we 
know something of their history and habits. 

Charlotte . I must say that I am not predisposed in their 
favour. I like them best in the form of Ham. 

F 




























34 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Tom. Have you ever observed the snout of a boar ? It is 
admirably adapted for the purpose of rooting in the earth. 
The boar distinguishes by the delicacy of its touch and by 
its sense of smell the things most suitable for his food, even 
when they are buried in the ground. Hence he is sometimes 
used to hunt for truffles. 

Tapa. Look at his heavy and massive form, the power 
of his neck and fore-quarters, and the wedge-like shape of 
the head. He will charge fearlessly at an apparently im¬ 
penetrable thicket, and vanish as by magic. Observe the 
polished tusks. They are terrible weapons when attacking 



BOARS FIGHTING. 


an enemy. It has been remarked that in striking with 
his tusks the boar does not seem to make any great 
exertion, but simply wriggles with his snout as he pierces 
his victim. 

Charlotte. At olves and wild boars have quite disappeared 
in England, and foxes are only saved from extinction by the 
care of the sportsman. Once the wild boar was protected 











TI1E WILD BOAll. 


35 


by severe forest laws, and to chase him was the favourite 
amusement of the nobility. He was attacked with the spear : 
to use nets or arrows was deemed an unworthy mode of 
destroying him. On would come the huge beast with light¬ 
ning swiftness, liis eyes furious, and lips dripping with foam. 
Just at the moment when the hunter expected to strike him, 
he would swerve from his course, snapping at the spear-head 
and breaking it from the shaft. 

Tom. I was told one day at Ringwood that there are 
some traces of wild boars still to be found in the forest pigs 
of Hampshire. Certainly these animals are wonderfully 
active, and much fiercer than the ordinary swine. Their 
crests are high, shoulders broad, 
and their manes thick and brist- 
ling. 

Freddie. There is one thing 
about a pig I don’t like. He’ll 
eat almost anything. But I have 
heard butchers say that if his 
flesh is to be sound and firm, he 
must be fed upon a vegetable diet. 

To feed him on the offal of other 
animals is to render his flesh 
flabby and unwholesome* 

Charlotte . Why did the Jews prohibit the use of the hog 
as an article of diet ? 

Fapa. The reason of this prohibition has never been 
clearly ascertained. The Mahomedans, no doubt following 
the example of the Jews, hold the same opinion. Spain, 
you know, was largely colonized by its Arabian conquerors. 













36 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


In some parts of that country swine’s flesh is thought to 
produce leprosy. 

Freddie. By the bye, girls, have you ever observed what 
an elegant mode of walking the pig has ? 

Mary. Yes, and he swims beautifully, but cuts his throat 
with every stroke he takes. 

Tom. No, that’s a vulgar error. He does nothing of 
the kind. 



Charlotte. Pigs have always large families. Gilbert White, 
the naturalist, tells us of a sow that, when she died, was 
the mother of no less than three hundred children. 

Fapa. We often libel the hog, and ascribe to it qualities 
which are of our own creation. It is no more naturally 
gluttonous than the cow or the dog. In its wild state it is 
never overloaded with fat. It will surpass a horse in swift¬ 
ness when roaming in wild activity through its native woods. 











AKE PIGS STUPID ? 


37 




It is only dirty when confined to a 
narrow sty, and, as modern farmers 
discover, the cleaner a pig is kept 
the more rapid is its growth, and 
the richer and finer its flesh. 

Tom . And why should people 
say, u As stupid as a pig” ? or 
“ As stupid as an ass ” ? Asses and 
pigs are not stupid animals at all. 

A j>ig lias fully an average amount 
of intelligence. 

Charlotte. I once went with my aunt to a country fair. 
We paid sixpence each, and stepped into a booth to see some 
learned pigs. They picked out cards, rang bells, and per¬ 
formed other tricks, clearly ex¬ 
hibiting a capacity of observa¬ 
tion and obedience which could 
hardly have been expected from 
so maligned an animal. We 
read in the May number, 1868, 
of the Cornhill Magazine , that 
a learned pig was so popular 
in London in 1785, that women 
of the first fashion waited four 
hours for their turn to see him. 

No wonder he was clever, for he was a Yorkshire pig; “ Bred 
at Beverley,” says a contemporary writer. 

Freddie. Did you ever hear of the pig that its master 
had trained to be a pointer, whose sharpness of smell was so 
great, that it would often find birds which the dogs had missed ? 
























38 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Papa. Yes, Mr. Wood describes her in the following* 
graphic terms :—“ ‘ Slut/ as this animal was called, was very 
fond of the sport, and would frequently walk a distance of 
seven miles in hopes of finding some one who was going out 
with a gun. She would point at every kind of game with 
the curious exception of the hare* which she never seemed 



POINTER PIG. 


to notice. Although she would willingly back the dogs, they 
were very jealous of her presence, and refused to do their 
duty when she happened to be the discoverer of any game, 
so that she was seldom taken out together with dogs, but 
was employed as a solitary pointer. So sensitive was her 
nose, that she would frequently point a bird at a distance | 


















THE TEAM OF HOGS. 


39 


of forty yards; and if it rose and flew away she would walk 
to the place from which it had taken wing, and put her 
nose on the very spot where it had been sitting. If, however, 
the bird only ran on, she would slowly follow it up by the 
scent, and when it came to a stop, she would again halt and 
point towards it. She was em¬ 
ployed in the capacity of pointer 
for several years, but was at last 
killed because she had become a 
dangerous neighbour to the sheep.” 

Mary. Pig’s skin makes the best 
leather for a saddle. 

Tom . A team of four very fine 
hogs has been ridden into the market¬ 
place of St. Albans. After driving 
once or twice round the market-place, 
the owner unharnessed his team, 
fed them, and in two hours put them again to his chaise 
and drove them back to his house, a distance of two or three 
miles. Absurd as the idea may seem, the hog is a good 
leaper, for a livery stable-keeper who petted a favourite pig, 
engaged that he could make him leap over a door four feet 
and a half in height. In order to induce the animal to make 
the effort, he placed the door across the entrance to the 
sty, and laid a bounteous supply of food within the enclosure. 
A wild boar has been known to clear a paling nearly nine 
feet in height, and it is remarkably active in leaping across 
ravines. 

Papa. It is interesting to observe the links that there 
are in nature. Thus the trunk of the elephant, the trunk-like 


























40 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


snout of the tapir, and the snout 
of the little peccary seem to he 
all more or less allied to each 
other. 

Mary, What ! the noble trunk 
of the magnificent elephant like 
the snout of a porker ? 

Papa. All! Mary, you may 
sneer at that snout, but I tell 
you that there is not a more 
beautiful apparatus in nature, or one better adapted to fulfil 
the ends for which it has been made. If you had lived in 

the reign of William the Con¬ 
queror, and killed a boar without 
authority, you would have had 
to lose your eyes. Boars were 
thought much of in former days. 

Freddie. A boy who had been 
in Neiv Zealand, once told me 
that there was not a larger quad¬ 
ruped in those islands when Cap¬ 
tain Cook came, than a little rat. 
He left several pairs of pigs behind him, which now are more 
like dogs than swine, being long-legged and lanky. 

Papa. We must not say anything more about pigs now, 
as I want to turn your attention to the fox. But just listen 
to these telling words of Sir Francis Bond Head: “ There 
exists, perhaps, in creation no animal which has less justice 
and more injustice done to him by man than the pig; gifted 
with every faculty of supplying himself, and of providing 




ELEPHANT. 




















Sill F. head’s appeal for the pig. 41 


PECCARY. 

even against the approaching storm, which no animal is 
better capable of foretelling. We begin by putting an iron 
ring through the cartilage of his nose, and having thus 
deprived him of the power of searching for, and analysing, 
his food, we generally condemn him for the rest of his life 
to solitary confinement in a sty. While his faculties are 
still his own, only observe how with a bark or snort he 
starts if you approach him, and mark what shrewd intelli¬ 
gence there is in his bright twinkling little eye; but with 
pigs, as with mankind, idleness is the root of all evil. The 
poor animal, finding that he has absolutely nothing to do, 
having no enjoyment, nothing to look forward to but the 

G 

















42 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


pail which feeds him, naturally, most eagerly, or, as we accuse 
him, most greedily, he greets its arrival. Having no paternal 
business or diversion within reach—nothing to occupy his 
brain—the whole powers of his system are directed to the 
digestion of a superabundance of food: to encourage this, 
nature assists him with sleep, which, lulling his better facul¬ 
ties, leads his stomach to become the ruling power of his 
system; a tyrant that can bear no one’s presence but his 
own. The poor pig, thus treated, gorges himself, sleeps, eats 
again, sleeps, awakens in a fright, screams, struggles against 
a blue apron, screams fainter and fainter, turns up the whites 
of his little eyes,—and—dies ! ”—Bubbles from the Brunnens 
of Nassau , p. 255. 

Mary. Now, Charlotte, let us have a good look at all the 
pictures of the elephant, the tapir, the peccary, and other 
animals reminding us more or less of swine, which Papa has 
collected. 














THE VOX. 

CONVERSATION V. 



THE FOX-NOT OF THE DOG TRIBE —RARE CUNNING OF THE ANIMAL—DISLIKE 

OF THE CAT AND THE HORSE TO THE SMELL OF A FOX—MR. WOOD’S 
STORY. 

Freddie . You said, Papa, that we were to talk about 

foxes to-night. What is a fox like? I never saw one. 

Fapa. I am not surprised at that, for the fox is a stealthy 
animal. He resides in burrows, scooping them out of the 
earth by the help of his formidable digging paws, and con¬ 
triving whenever he can to take advantage of the space 
between the roots of trees or large stones. 

Mary. Poxes used to be thought, by natural historians, 
to belong to the dog tribe, but now they are placed in a 
genus by themselves. It has been remarked that the shape 
of the pupil of the eye in the fox is elongated, whereas in 
the animals of the great dog race it is circular. The ears 
of the fox are three-cornered in shape, and pointed; the tail 















44 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


is always exceedingly bushy; sportsmen call it a brush. It 
partakes of the reddish fawn tints which cover the body, 
except at the tip, which is white. The height of the common 
species is about a foot; its length is about two feet and a 
half, exclusive of the tail. 

Tom. The providence of God is manifested in a thousand 
w^ays, so our Hector tells us from the pulpit. In the fox 
there is this benevolent provision : his fur is twice as thick 
and strong in winter as in the summer. The dealers are 
well aware of this. 

Charlotte. Poxes are troublesome animals, 
and live chiefly by thieving: they attack 
farmyards. If they are hunted by men they 
hunt other animals in turn on their own 
account. They are highway robbers and 
burglars. Poor 
fellows ! what 
are they to do 
for a livelihood? 

But they some¬ 
times get a bad 
character on 
account of the 
misconduct of 
others. When 
rats have car¬ 
ried off* a num¬ 
ber of chickens, 
for instance, 

poor Reynard has, often very unjustly, to bear the blame. A 














FOXES 


P. 44 















































































































































. 




♦ 









. 

























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INSTINCT OF THE FOX. 


45 


number of interesting anecdotes have been related, however, 
illustrative of the instinct of the fox, which show that he 
is a very skilful hunter on his own account. A fox will 
often make prey of animals much quicker than himself, 
and apparently quite as cunning. 

Papa. I have heard it said that if it were not for fox¬ 
hunting, the country gentlemen would never live upon their 
estates; they would become mere idlers about the pampered 
capital, lounging at the doors of luxurious clubs, and secretly 



indulging in many forms of vice. The management of the 
lands would be left to middle-men, and all the miseries of 
absenteeism would follow. But I do not believe this. 

Tom . It is a curious fact that the fox has some glands 
placed near the root of his tail, furnishing an odorous secretion. 
The consequence is, that wherever a fox goes, a powerful 
scent accompanies him. Glands of a similar nature, but 
not so well developed, are found in the wolf. Bo you 
remember when old Ploughshare caught a fox that had been 














OUll DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


plundering his chickens and stealing the game, and exhibited 
him in an outhouse, the fox filled the outhouse with a nauseous 


odour which lasted for many 
weeks, though he wasn't there 
for more than twenty minutes? 
In his pursuit the hound is en¬ 
tirely guided by this strange and 
powerful smell. He is thus 



enabled to follow the flying animal, and runs it down by 
superior swiftness and endurance. 

Freddie. Yes, but the poor fox seems to know that 
the dog pursues him by the scent. 

JPapa. That is true, my boy, and this makes him 
practise every scheme that he can invent in order to break 
or to overpower the scent. Sometimes, after running some 
distance in a straight line, he will return on his own 


track, and then make a long jump 
on one side, so as to induce the 
hounds to run forward, while 
he slips away into some hole. 
He tries to cheat the dogs by 
changing the scent. 



Mary . Do you remember, 
Papa, the tame fox that stayed 
with us some months ago for 
about a week ? He made friends 


with several of the dogs, but my cat would never go near 
him. Is it true that cats cannot bear disagreeable smells ? 
1 know that my tabby would not even walk upon the spot 
where the fox had been standing. 













CUNNING OF TIIE FOX. 


47 


Papa. The horse holds the fox in similar detestation. 
His presence in the stable sets horses in confusion, and 
they plunge about restless 

and uneasy. Mr. Wood 1 x • 



tells a good story, illus¬ 
trating the craft of the 
animal, knowing that cats 
won’t come near him if 


they can help it. He in- v h 


forms us that a fox once 
made use of this know¬ 
ledge to cheat some cats of 
their breakfast. As soon as 


the servant poured out the 

cats’ allowance of milk, the fox would run to the spot, 
and walk about the saucer, vrell knowing that none of 
the rightful owners would approach the defiled locality. 
Hay after day the cats lost their milk, until the clever 
stratagem was discovered, and the milk was placed in a spot 
where it could not be reached by the fox. There were 
three cats attached to the stables, and they all partook of 
the same dislike; so that their abhorrence of the odour 
of the fox seems to belong to the general nature of cats, 
and not to the fastidious taste of a single animal. He was 
also very successful in cheating the dogs of their food; 
achieving his thefts by the force of superior intellect. 

Charlotte. The same animal was cunning enough to 
procure a supply of milk, even after he had been pre¬ 
vented from robbing the cats. Once, as the dairymaid was 
passing along with her pails, the fox went up to her 












48 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


and brushed himself against one of the milk-pails. In con¬ 
sequence of this contact, the milk became so tainted with 
the smell of the fox, that the dairymaid did not venture 
to bring it to the house, and rather thoughtlessly poured it 
into a vessel, and gave it to the fox. The crafty animal 
took advantage of the circumstance, and watched for the 
coming of the maid with her pails, in order to repeat the 
process. Several times he succeeded in his project, but when 
he found the spoiled milk was given to the pigs, instead of 
being appropriated to his own use, he ceased his nefarious 
attempts. He detested all % ragged beggars, and was so 
energetic in his hostile demonstrations that he realized the 
truth of the proverb., “ Set a thief to catch a thief!” 


















[Govpil and Co. 

r. 40 . 



By permission ] 


CAI1LE IX PASTURE. — After Rosa Eonheur, 








































































* 






























































«* 

















CONVERSATION VI. 


CATTLE — OXEN YOKED TO WAGGONS AND PLOUGHS — HORNLESS CATTLE — WHITE 
CATTLE OF CHILLINGHAM—HERDS OF OXEN AND COWS DANGEROUS WHEN 
ALARMED. 


Freddie. About a week ago I happened to be near the 
dairy when the cows came to be milked, and I could not 
help watching Dumple under the operation. 

Mary . Yes, Freddie, hut how came the milk to he formed ? 

Charlotte . That is a question which I cannot indeed fully 
answer, but I know that oxen are ruminating, or chew the 
cud. I wonder if this fact helps to account for the quantity 
of rich, nourishing milk which the cow produces ? 

H 











































50 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS 



YOKED OXEN. 


Papa. There are, perhaps, no animals in the world more 
useful to us on the whole than oxen. In Switzerland I have 
seen a pair of them yoked in a huge farmer’s waggon. 




















VARIETIES OE CATTLE. 51 


Mary. They were so used by the Jews in Old Testament 
times. Hence the Proverb, “It is hard for thee to kick 
against the pricks; ” meaning, it is 
a foolish thing for an ox to kick 
against the goad employed in 
driving him, because in such a 
case he only increases his own 
pain. 

Tom. Yes, and in Palestine 
oxen are used to tread out the 
corn. Hence another saying, “Thou 
shalt not muzzle the ox that 
treadeth out the corn; ” meaning, 

“ Thou shalt not reward in a grudging spirit those who 
diligently serve in Church or State.” 

Papa. The more I read about oxen, the more I find it 
difficult to divide and subdivide them 
into groups and varieties. Some have 
thought that the horn is the most natural 
characteristic for making such subdivi¬ 
sions. On this principle we have the 
long-horned, the short-horned, the polled 
or hornless breed, and the Alderney cow, 
which is justly celebrated for the quantity 
and the quality of its milk. 

Tom. When Erench gentlemen, lovers of animals, Papa, 
have sometimes called upon you, I have heard them record 
with great delight their success in producing a race of hornless 
oxen. 

Papa. That is true. Moreover, it may be observed that 


















52 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


oxen and cows, alive and dead, are most useful to man. 
In childhood we depend greatly for sustenance on the 


milk of the cow, and beef 
is one of our constant 
articles of food. From 
the hoofs, the ears, and 
the parings of the hide 
of the ox, we manu¬ 
facture glue. His skin, 
when tanned, is useful to 
the maker of harness and 
shoes, and to the builder 
of carriages. The hair of 
the cow is mixed with 
mortar in order to give it 
additional power of hold¬ 
ing fast. What would 
the chemist do without 
their bones ? 



Tom. They say that there is still remaining in England 
a troop of the old original British oxen. 

'Papa. Yes, they are called the white cattle of Chilling- 
ham. The colour of these beautiful animals is a cream-white, 
with the exception of the ears and muzzle, the former of which 
are red, and the latter is black. Mr. Bell observes, that in 
every case of white cattle which has passed under his 
personal notice, the ears are marked with red or black, ac¬ 
cording to the breed. The white tint extends even to the 
horns, which are, however, tipped with black. They are 
rather slender in their make, and curve boldly upwards. As 














WHITE CATTLE OF CHILLINGHAM. 53 


these Chillingham cattle are permitted to range at will 
through spacious parks in which they are kept, they 
retain many of the wild habits 
of their tribe, and are so impatient 
of observation, that a stranger 
will generally find himself in a very 
unsafe position if he attempts to 
approach closely to the herd. 

When they are alarmed or pro¬ 
voked at the intrusion of a strange 
human being within the limit of 
their territories, they toss their 
heads wildly in the air, paw the 
ground, and stedfastly regard the object of their dislike. If 
he should make a sudden movement, they scamper away 
precipitately, gallop round him in a circle, and come to 
another halt at a shorter distance. This process is continu¬ 
ally repeated, the diameter of the circle being shortened at 
every fresh start, until the angry, yet half-frightened, animals 
come so alarmingly close to the spectator, that he finds himself 
obliged to escape as he best can. In performing these curious 
evolutions, they seem to be inspired by a mixture of curiosity, 
timidity, and irritation, which may be observed even in 
ordinary domestic cattle under like circumstances. On one occa¬ 
sion, when a herd of cattle were pressing upon a gentleman 
in a most uncomfortable manner, he owed his escape to early 
instruction in the art of the “acrobat.” The herd, wholly 
composed of cows, was surrounding him with a very threaten¬ 
ing aspect, and was advancing in such a manner that there 
was no mode of escape from their ranks. Seeing that a bold 



















OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



stratagem was the only resource, he ran sharply forward, and 
commenced rotating towards them in that peculiar method 
which is technically termed “ turning a wheel,” i* e. executing 
a series of somersaults on the hands and feet alternately. 
The cows were so terrified at the unknown foe who was 
attacking them in so extraordinary a manner* that they 
were panic-stricken, and galloped off at full speed, leaving 
him an easy escape before they had recovered from their 
surprise. 

Mary . I sincerely hope that no cattle allied by race or 
temper to these wild animals are allowed to cross the streets 


























of London and our other great towns on their way from the 
cattle-market to the slaughter-house. 

Papa. The practice to which 
you allude is a scandal to civiliza¬ 
tion and humanity. I trust that 
it will he soon a thing of the 
past. 

Freddie . What are Abattoirs? 

Papa. They are large struc¬ 
tures erected, for the most part, 
outside of towns for the slaughter¬ 
ing of cattle. They are spacious, 
well-drained, and well-ventilated. 

The animals are killed with the 

infliction of the least possible pain. Every atom is carefully 
utilized, from the tip of the horns to the last hair of the tail. 
The only nuisance about the abattoirs in Paris is, that they 
are infested by tens of thousands of grey and brown rats. It is 
reported that in one battue at Montmartre nearly a million 
were slain. 

Charlotte. While staying with my 
aunt, I have had several opportu¬ 
nities of observing the habits of her 
cows. Until I went to the Grange, 

I had no idea how affectionate and in¬ 
telligent the cow is. 

Papa. Yes, and their lives form a 
sort of parable or living lesson for the 
instruction of mankind. They are very sensitive and sus¬ 
ceptible; they will not stand insult or disrespect from their 















56 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


inferiors; tliey pay great deference to seniority. In a 
herd of cows the oldest leads, and all the rest implicitly 
follow and obey. None of the juniors dare to leave or 
enter the pasture until the leader has set the example. No 
young calf must even crop the grass without permission; 
a terrible butting will follow a breach of etiquette, and the 
poor calf sometimes has to go without her supper altogether. 
Mr. Wood tells us many curious facts, which are very in- 



WATERJNG CATTLE. 


teresting, but are not generally known, beyond the circle 
of natural historians. To watch a calf through its various 
phases of existence is a most amusing employment. When 
the young animal is introduced for the first time into the 
farm-yard, she is treated in the most supercilious manner by 
the previous occupants, who look with an air of supreme 
contempt upon the new comer. She is pushed aside by all 
















Hy permission] MOTHER AND SON.— After Rosa Bonheur. [Govpil and Co. 

P. 56 




















■ • 













■a 




































QUAINT HABITS OF CALVES AND COWS. 


57 



lier predecessors, and soon learns to 
follow humbly in the wake of her 
companions. She cannot even venture 
to take possession of a food-rack until 
all the others have begun their meal. So 
matters go on for a time, until she has 
attained a larger growth, and a younger 
calf is turned into the yard. She now 
in her turn plays the tyrant over the 
new comer, and receives no small ac¬ 
cession of dig¬ 


nity from the 
fact of having 
a follower, in¬ 
stead of bring¬ 
ing up the rear 
in her own 
person. In pro¬ 
cess of time she 
makes her way 
to the head of 
the yard by 
virtue of senio¬ 
rity, and is then 
happy in the 

supreme rule which she enjoys. Sometimes a three-parts 
grown heifer is introduced into a farm-yard, and in that 
case the new comer refuses to take her place below all the 
others, unless she is absolutely compelled to do so by main 
force. There is generally a considerable amount of fighting 

i 

































58 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS, 



before such an animal finds her level; hut when she has 
discovered her superiors and her subordinates, she quietly 
settles down in her place, and does not attempt to rise other¬ 
wise than by legitimate seniority. 

Freddie. This sort of follow-my-leader feeling may help to 
account for what I remember once seeing in Yorkshire, and 
which, an old East Riding gentleman told me, is called 
clegging. A herd of cattle suddenly, following the oldest 
and the largest, rushed violently across a vast field, their 
tails reared high in the air, and overthrowing all before 
them, with big, thundering force, and wild terror, lest they 



















CATTLE CHEW THE CUD. 59 


should be bitten by a cleg, that 
is a horse-fly or gad-fly. 

Charlotte . What do you mean 
by ruminating? 

JPapa. In scientific language, 
the first compartment of a cow’s 
stomach is called rumen , hence the 
word ruminate,—that is, chewing 
the cud. 

Tom. This is a proof of the 
wonderful bounty and providence 
of the Creator. Oxen and cows, in their wild and natural 
state, require a large amount of vegetable food. This they 
cannot procure when and where they will; they are liable 
perhaps to be pursued by animals bigger or bolder than 
themselves. They sometimes are obliged to gorge mucli 
more than they require for immediate mastication and diges¬ 
tion. Their gullet and stomach are so built up as to act 
as an inside food-pocket. The entire stomach is fourfold. 

JPapa. When I was in Australia, there was much talk 
about utilizing the vast herds of cattle which roam undisturbed 
throughout the unsettled parts of the country. It must 
not, however, be supposed that they are without owners. The 
stock-holders to whom they belong hunt them up at certain 
seasons, and few, if any, except those of very tender age 
indeed are found without the name of the owner branded 
upon them; those not marked are brought up and branded 
accordingly. It is said that millions upon millions of pounds 
of beef and mutton are annually wasted in Australia for want 
of mouths to eat them before they are spoiled. The cattle 













60 OUll DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


are chiefly bred for their hides and their tallow, the sheep 
for their fleeces. 

Tom. You said something about oxen being used as 
beasts for the yoke. In Africa, they are also trained for 
the saddle. They move at the pace of about five miles an 
hour. In our next conversation I propose that we devote 
an hour or two to the sheep and the goat. 























f 



CONVERSATION VII 


SHEEP AND LAMBS—THEIR HISTORY AND 
HABITS. 


Papa. The forefathers of the 
Jewish nation were a pastoral 
people. Hence we may expect 
to find in the Holy Bible many 
references to the sheep and the 
lamb. Of these I know none 
more beautiful and touching than that contained in the fifty 























62 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


third chapter of the Book of Isaiah. I quote the passage in 
full because it describes the sufferings of our Blessed Saviour 

in such lively terms that it looks 
more like a history than a pro¬ 
phecy. The perusal of it is said 
to have converted the profligate 
Lord Bochester to a fervent belief 
in the Christian revelation. “ Who 
hath believed our report ? and to 
whom is the arm of the Lord 
revealed? For He shall grow up 
before Him <as a tender plant, and 
as a root out of a dry ground : He 
hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see Him, 
there is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised 
and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with 
grief: and we hid as it were our faces from Him; He was 
despised, and we esteemed Him not. Surely He hath borne 
our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem Him 
stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was wounded 
for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the 
chastisement of our peace was upon Him ; and with His stripes 
we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have 
turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on 
Him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and He was 
afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth: He is brought as a 
lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is 
dumb, so He openeth not His mouth . 55 

Mary. The lamb here presents the most delicate por¬ 
traiture of resigned innocence. The Divine Sufferer is making 



SHEEPFOLD. 














SHEEP. 


63 





an atonement for sins, but not His own. His meek and 
passive behaviour is the result of that perfect resignation 

which seems to 
be required for 
a perfect sacri¬ 
fice. No cha¬ 
racter that ever 
appeared fills 
up the measure 
of this picture 
except the ever 
blessed Jesus. 
In the Book of 
the Eevelation 
of St. John, He 
is represented 
as ever living 
and pleading in 
Heaven under 
the type of the spotless Lamb; 
alike a lamb for sacrificial 
offering, and as an example of 
perfect meekness, patience, and 
resignation. 

Freddie. If, Papa, we read in 
the Bible about sheep having 
been useful to man, we may be 
quite sure that he has been sub¬ 
jected to the ways of mankind, and provided man with meat 
and clothing, from the very earliest times. 



















OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


64 


Papa. That is true, and lie is closely allied to the goat, an 
animal which is also often mentioned in the Bible. 

Tom. Yes, but because in the parable of the sheep and the 
goats, the sheep are the good people, and the goats the bad, we 
are not to suppose that the poor goat is a worse animal 
than the sheep ! 



Charlotte. Have you observed how fond sheep are of 
clambering up precipitous rocks ? Sometimes a sheep and 
her lamb will manage to wander up and down the fronts of 
sea cliffs which offer here and there little spots of delicate 
grass: and you would suppose that they mast be dashed 
in pieces; but I believe they are never known to suffer 
injury. 


























WELSH SHEEP. 


65 


Freddie . Surely this is a proof that sheep are not such 
timid animals as they are supposed to he. 

Charlotte . No, indeed, they are very courageous, when 
possessed of full freedom. The little Welsh sheep which roam 



over the mountains of Snowdon and Plinlimmon, so far from 
flying in wild affright from the presence of man, draw together 
into a compact phalanx, and watch him with stern and defiant 

K 

















66 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



gaze. Woe betide him if he attempts to move forward! The 
rams, forming the first line of battle, would rush on him one 
and all, and he might be seriously if not mortally hurt. 

Tom . I have reason to believe 
that a single old ram w r ill attack 
a man in a most dangerous fashion 
when he is roused. Observe, 
that goats and sheep do not fight 
in the same way. A goat rears 
himself on his hind legs, and 
then plunges sideways against his 
enemy; a sheep gallops forward at 
full speed, lifts his fore-feet from 
the ground, and strikes his op¬ 
ponent with the whole weight as 
well as impetus of the body. A ram has been known to kill 
a bull, at the first blow, in one of these wild encounters. 

Mary. But we are not to sup¬ 
pose that a sheep only fights for 
selfish objects. Mr. Wood informs 
us that a sheep that had been led 
into a slaughter-house has been 
known to turn fiercely upon the 
butcher as he was about to kill 
one of its companions, and to butt 
him severely in order to make him 
relinquish his grasp of its friend. 

Tom. A curious question has 
which is the more intelligent 
The opinion of those who have 







sometimes arisen, as to 
animal, a sheep or a goat. 























HABITS OF SHEEP. 


inquired carefully into the subject 
seems to be in favour of the latter 
animal. 

Sheep have one curious pro¬ 
pensity. They always follow the 
one that happens to be the leader, 
even though he should rush down 
a deep precipice. 

The Spanish shepherds manage 
their sheep in the Oriental fashion. 

They take advantage of the natural 
propensity of the animal, and walk in front of the vast flocks 


over which they are set in charge. They do not drive but lead 
them. I wish English shepherds would follow their example. 

















68 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



Mary . Our Blessed Saviour often refers to sheep and 
shepherds in His incomparable conversations with His dis¬ 
ciples. On one occasion He proved that it was lawful to do 
a greater good on the Sabbath-day, by reminding His accusers 

that they themselves 
did a lesser, but still a 
real good, when He said 
unto them, “ What man 
shall there be among 
you, that shall have one 
sheep, and if it fall into 
a pit on the Sabbath- 
day, will he not lay 
hold on it, and lift it 
out ? How much then 
is a man better than a 
sheep ? ” 

l?apa. Hear the para¬ 
ble of the Good Shep¬ 
herd, and the manner in 
which our Blessed Lord 
illustrates His work and 
His mission:—“He 
that entereth in by the 
door is the shepherd of 
the sheep. To Him the 
porter openeth; and the sheep hear His voice ; and He calleth 
His own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when 
He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them, and 
the sheep follow Him: for they know His voice. And a 




















PARABLE OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 69 


exquisitely plaintive and tender pastoral appeal of Ezekiel, 
addressed to the careless priesthood of the temple, under a 


stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him : for they 
know not the voice of strangers.” Nor must we forget the 














70 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


series of images derived from tlie duties of a shepherd to 
his flock: “ Thus saith the Lord God unto the shepherds; 
Woe he to the shepherds of Israel that do feed themselves ! 
should not the shepherds feed the flocks ? . . . The diseased have 
ye not strengthened; neither have ye healed that which was 
sick, neither have ye hound up that which w^as broken, 
neither have ye brought again that which was driven away, 
neither have ye sought that which was lost; but with force 
and with cruelty have ye ruled them.” 

Charlotte. I have sometimes told you with what beautiful 
taste animals are introduced into pictures, forming, so to 
speak, their complement, and often strangely illustrating the 
subject of the painting. At Florence, in the gallery of the 
academy, I remember to have seen a picture of the birth 
of our Lord, by Lorenzo di Credi or Cigoli.—Our Saviour 
lies upon the ground; Joseph of Arimathea is represented 
in thoughtful worship. Two girls are kneeling by the side 
of the Virgin. Two women are in deep and rapturous 
discourse, as it were dwelling upon the prophecies. A lad 
leads a lamb as though unresisting to the slaughter; God, 
in the person of Jesus Christ, providing an offering. The 
introduction of this lamb adds a strange beauty to the 
masterly picture. 

Mary . When you, Papa, generously took us with you in 
your tour through Belgium and the Low Countries, do you 
remember our stopping two days at Ghent ? In the Cathedral 
of St. Bavon, in the Eleventh Chapel, there is one of the 
finest works ever produced by the early Elemish School, 
the masterpiece of the brothers Hubert and John Van Eyck, 
celebrated all over the world. Let me read to you a 











THE “SPOTLESS LAMB.” 


71 



description of this picture. The subject is the adoration of 
the Spotless Lamb. “ In the centre is seen the Lamb as 
described in the Revelation, surrounded by angels, and 






























72 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


approached by worshippers in four groups: in the fore¬ 
ground, on the right of the fountain of life, are the 
patriarchs and prophets of the Old Testament; on the left, 
apostles and saints of the New; while, in the horizon, rise 
the towers of the New Jerusalem, copied from some old 
Flemish town. More than three hundred heads may he 
counted in this wonderful production, all finished with the 
most scrupulous minuteness. ” 

Freddie. We are to understand, then, that the Spotless 
La.mb is the sign or type of our loving Saviour’s sacrifice 
for us. 

















[Goujnl and Co. 
P. 72. 


iy permission J 


SHEEP AND LAMBS.—After Kosa Ponh^ui 






















































































































































































► A 






















































































V. 












































CONVERSATION VIII. 

VARIETIES OF SHEEP—SOUTHDOWN, MERINO, ETC. 

Freddie. You said, Papa, that there were a great many 
varieties of sheep P 

Fapa. Yes; about thirty are mentioned by naturalists. 
Amongst these breeds, none is on the whole better than 
the Southdown, which is valuable, not only for the wool it 
produces, but for the delicacy of its flesh. Ey careful crossing 
and good management the horns of this variety have entirely 
disappeared, and the nourishment required to perfect them 
has been diverted to the flesh and the wool. 

Mary. Where are the Soutlidowns ? 

n 

















74 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Tom. They form a range of clialk hills which pass through 
Surrey, Sussex, and Kent. The soil is not very thick, and 
the grass is short and sweet. 

Charlotte. It is said that these hills are covered with 
millions of minute snails; that the sheep feed readily upon 
these, mixed with the grass; and that they greatly improve 
both the mutton and the fleece, 



Tom. That is quite true. But you are not to suppose that 
the counties which you have mentioned enjoy a monopoly of 
this useful animal. Southdown sheep are found in great 
numbers in all parts of England, where the climate and the 
herbage are suitable. 



















SOUTHDOWN AND LEICESTER BREED. 


75 



so othdoVv'n . 


Freddie . When I was staying at Leicester last summer, 
I heard a good deal said about the Dishley breed of Leicester 
sheep. 

JPapa. Yes, the Leicester sheep prefers low-lying level 
pasturage. He used to be rather an expensive animal to rear, 
but now he is bred in a less costly manner; and by judicious 
selection and arrangement, excellent mutton and a heavy fleece 
may be combined in the same animal. 

Tom. I have sometimes seen in tailors’ shops the word 
“merino” wool alluded to. 





























76 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS, 



LEICESTER SHEEP. 


Papa. Yes, the Spanish sheep is also called merino; that 
is, marine , having been originally imported by sea. He 
is not valued much, except for his wool. He is bigger in 
the limbs than an ordinary English sheep, and the ram has 
large spiral horns. If a merino be left untouched by the 
shears for two seasons, the wool will double its length and 
be equally fine in texture. 

Charlotte. What is wool ? I should like to know some¬ 
thing about it. 

Mary. In country places I have often observed old women 
knitting woollen stockings for their husbands and sons. The 



























MERINO SHEEP. 


wives of the fishermen of Boulogne are remarkable for the 
neatness of their stockings and shoes. You may see them 
by scores on a fine clay, seated on the pier with their baskets 
by their side, waiting for the return of their husbands from 
the sea, and plying their knitting-needles with incredible 
industry. 

Tapa. Mr. Wood, in his Natural History , gives such a 
simple and admirable account of the peculiar hair which 
decorates the sheep, and which is known by the name of wool, 
that I shall read it to you at length :— 
















78 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


“Wool is a very curious kind of 
hair, and may he recognised at once 
hy any one who possesses a tolerable 
microscope. If a single hair of the 
sheep’s wool be subjected to a power¬ 
ful lens, a vast number of serra¬ 
tions are seen, which, when carefully 
examined, resolve themselves into a 
series of notched ridges, which sur¬ 
round the hair closely. To use a 
familiar illustration, the hair hears 
a strong resemblance to a number 
of thimbles thrust into each other, and with their edges 
notched like so many saws. It is to this notched or jagged 
surface of the hair that the peculiar value of the sheep’s 
wool is owing, for it is by means of these serrations that the 
hairs interlock with each other in that mode which is 
popularly termed ‘felting.’ If a handful of loose wool be 
taken and well kneaded, the fibres become inextricably 
matted together, and form the substance which we term 
‘felt.’ In a similar manner, when woollen thread is made 
into cloth, and subjected to the hard usage of its manufacture, 
the fibres of the different threads become so firmly adherent 
to each other that they never get unravelled when the cloth is 
cut or torn. The ‘felting’ property is greatly increased hy 
the propensity of woollen fibre to contract when touched hy 
water. It is in consequence of this peculiarity that woollen 
fabrics will always shrink when they are wetted for the first 
time after their manufacture. The reader may naturally 
wonder why the wool does not become thus matted together 



KNITTING. 











THE WOOL OF SHEEP. 79 


when it is upon the sheep’s hack, and subject to the influence 
of nightly dew and daily rain. The answer is, that the fleece 
is imbued with a peculiar secretion from the skin, which is 
technically called the “ yolk,” and which repels the action of 
water. Upon the quantity of this “ yolk ” the quality of 
the wool greatly depends. 

“ The custom of annually depriving the sheep of its wool 
by means of shears is of very ancient origin, and still holds 
its ground. But within a comparatively recent period, the 
poor creatures were even in this country barbarously stripped 
of their warm coats by main force, the workmen grasping large 
handfuls of the wool and dragging it from the body. This 
c evil deed ’ was called 4 rowing,’ and those who are learned 
in old English ballad lore will remember many passages 
where reference to this cruel custom may be found. The 
Latin word for wool, 4 vellus,’ is derived from the verb 
f vellere,’ to pluck out, and evidently refers to the same 
custom. By that cruel mode of action, the sheep owner 
was generally a bad economist, for the injury to the more 
delicate animals was so severe, that their sensitive skins 
were unable to resist the effects of the weather,, and the 
death of the poor creature was often the result.” 

Tom. Some varieties of sheep appear to be more intel¬ 
ligent than others. The Highland breed bears the palm of 
cleverness. A Highland lamb is sometimes known to be as 
adroit a mimic as a monkey. One favourite little lamb, if 
blamed or scolded, would hide its head in a corner, and 
appeared overwhelmed with sorrow. But if it were praised or 
patted it became almost mad with excitement, rolling over 
and over like a ball, and even standing upon its head. It was 


















80 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS, 


a discriminating admirer of music, “ being,” as Mr. Wood 
informs us, “ delighted at brisk and lively airs, such as 
are set for polkas, quadrilles, and other dance tunes; but 
abhorring all slow and solemn compositions. It had the 
deepest detestation of the National Anthem, and would set 



up such a continuous baa-baa as soon as its ears were struck 
with the unwelcome sounds, that the musician was fain to 
close the performance, being silenced by mirth if not by 
pity.” 

Papa. Most animals are affected by music. Tliere still 


















EFFECT OF MUSIC ON ANIMALS. 81 


remains a fragment of Charon orf Lampsacus, the writer of 
history, older than Herodotus, which has been translated by 
Colonel Mure. It gives an amusing description of the way in 
which this well-known tendency of animals was cleverly em¬ 
ployed in winning a battle* The following is the narrative 
of Charon 



BRETbN SHEEP. 


“ The Cardians were accustomed to teach their horses to 
dance to the sound of the flute in their festivals; when 
standing upright on their hind-legs, they adapted the 
motions of their fore-feet to the time of the music. Onaris, 
being acquainted with this custom, procured a female flute- 
player from Cardia, and this flute-play er, on her arrival in 

M 
























82 ‘ OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


BisaltiSj instructed many of the flute-players of that city, 
whom he caused to accompany him in his march against 
the Cardians. As soon as the engagements commenced, 
he ordered the flute-players to strike up those tunes to which 
the CaMian horses were used to perform. And no sooner 
had the horses heard the music, than they stood up on 
their hind-legs and began to dance. But the chief force 











SMALLNESS OF THE BRETON SHEER, 


83 



ARGALI. 


of the Cardians was in cavalry; and so they lost the 
battle.” 

Charlotte. When, Papa, you bring us home a very little 
leg of delicately flavoured mutton, we know that it has come 
from a Welsh sheep. Are the Welsh the smallest variety ? 

Papa. No; the Breton sheep are more pigmy still. By 
the side of a big Leicester ram the little Breton looks like a 
Shetland pony by the side of a Planders dray-horse. 



























OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


84 


George. Some sheep, I am told, have immense hunches 
of fat on their hind quarters, and others have such fat tails, 
weighing from seventy to eighty pounds each, that the shep¬ 
herds make a little wheeled carriage and fasten it to the sheep, 
so that he drags along his own tail. In the Cape Colony 
there is a similar race, and immense quantities of delicate and 
excellent soap are manufactured from the fat of their tails. 

Mary. Look here! just let me show you a portrait of 
that large and splendid animal, the Wallachiau sheep. He 
is a noble animal, with his horns ever so long. 

Freddie. Yes, but he is not as large as the Argali of 
Siberia, who is the giant of the Ovine race. In winter 
they are sometimes wholly enveloped in a deep snow-drift, 
and breathe by means of a little hole passing through the 
snow to the surface. Por these imprisoned Argalis the 
hunters eagerly search. Their fleet legs avail them nothing 
when they are found, and they perish ignominiously under 
the spear of the huntsman. 

Mary. Let me read to you a sweet little poem by William 
Wordsworth, called 

THE PET LAMB. 

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink ; 

I heard a voice ; it said, “ Drink, pretty creature, drink ! 11 
And, looking o’er the hedge, before me I espied 
A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side. 

Nor sheep nor kine were near ; the lamb was all alone, 

And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; 

With one knee op the grass did the little maiden kneel, 

While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal. 














- m . m < kkshc 


JSIsSt - 









[Goupil and Co. 


P. 84. 


By permission] 


GOATS.—Alter Rosa Bonhecr 


















































CONVERSATION IX. 

GOATS-WELSH GOATS—THE IBEX—THE CASHMERE GOAT—THE GOAT AS A PER¬ 
FORMER-THE FRIENDLY GOATS. 

Papa. Sheep and goats are closely allied to each other, 
and yet a careful examination reveals many points of 
difference between them. One peculiarity of the male goat 
is his large horns. He has also a heard on his chin. 
Goats, like most other animals, are very social when kindly 
treated. 























OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


86 


Mary. I find that the goat was well known and appreciated 
in the very earliest days of society and civilization. We read 
in the Book of Genesis, the twenty-seventh chapter and the 

ninth verse, “ Go now to the 
flocks, and fetch me thence two 
good kids of the goats.” During 
the Mosaic dispensation it was 
reckoned among the clean animals, 
and was not only freely eaten, 
both boiled and roast, by the 
Jewish people, but employed also 
in their sacrifices and feasts. 

Charlotte. When I was travel¬ 
ling in South Wales, I found that 
the goat is now seldom to be seen, and a few only remain 
in a wild state in Glamorganshire. 



.- 3=2 


Freddie. I wonder 
if the story is true, 
that Uncle Taffy used 
to ride the goat, and 
that the original 
^ Welsh pony was no¬ 
thing but a goat. 

Tom. How this may 
be I know not, but 
it appears that horses 
are refreshed by the strange, strong 
odour which is peculiar to the animal, 
and lienee goats are often kept in stables. 
George. When I went to Switzerland two 














THE IBEX VERY SURE-FOOTED. 


87 




years ago, and wanted to cross 
over from the Valley of Engelberg 
by the Surenen Pass to the St. 

Gotliard road, how I wished that 
I had the activity and sure-footed¬ 
ness of the goat! The Ibex will 
stand safely on the loftiest points 
of the rocks, will walk in perfect 
security along the edge of the 
highest precipices, and hound from 
crag to crag with wonderful 
precision. swi s«. 

Papa . Yes, at some of the Swiss villages famous for their 
milk-and-whey cures, you may see early in the morning and 
at sunset invalids waiting their turn for a glass of goats-milk. 

Mary . Where’s Edith? She ought to join in these con¬ 
versations, for she knows more about animals than most of 
us. As you have just returned from Switzerland, Edith, tell 
us all about the Steinbok. 

Edith. Now let me confess to 
you that all the time I was in 
Switzerland, though I crossed 
over the Simplon, the Splugen, 
the St. Gothard, and the Erunig 
passes—though I wandered into 
the defiles of the Valley of 
Engelberg, a thoroughly out-of- 
the-way place, chosen by St. 

Bernard as the site of a monas¬ 
tery—I never saw but one Ibex. His horns were more 
























OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


88 


than three feet long, and seemed 
utterly unsuitable to an animal 
that lived amongst glaciers. 

Papa. We must not presume 
that the bony protuberances of 
some animals have no use because 
we cannot at first sight find it 
out. It appears that some Swiss 
hunters think that these enormous 
horns act as buffers, so that when 
the animal springs or falls from a great elevation, he alights 
on his horns, while his body rebounds from the rock. He is 
thus preserved from the consequences of a concussion which 
would probably endanger his life. 

Tom. It strikes me, Edith, that it is much more likely that 
these great horns are weapons of offence. The Bouquetin, 
as the Ibex is sometimes called, is wary and active, and 
when impelled by the utter peril of its life, will turn round 
upon a huntsman, leap at him full tilt, and striking him on 
the head with these horns, will bruise him with their cross 
ridges, and capsize him, stunned and bleeding. 

Edith. Yes, and they often escape the huntsman, because 
they can subsist for a long time without food or water, crouch¬ 
ing in a snowdrift, or mounted securely on some peak not to 
be reached by the foot of man* Their faces are often grave, 
demure, and intelligent. They form a sort of parable of patri¬ 
archal government. They live in little clans, from six to a 
dozen in number, obeying with admirable and perfect discipline 
some grand old patriarch. A sentinel keeps watch over them 
every night. No sound or scent escapes him. He is wakeful 
















CLANNISH HABITS OF THE IBEX. 89 



IBEX. 


and suspicious, and if lie thinks that the slightest danger is 
to be apprehended, lie gives a strange, weird, warning cry, 
something between a bleat and a whistle, and away goes 
the whole band. Their instinct always leads them upward, 
an inborn “Excelsior” being, as one has well said, woven 
into their very nature. 

N 




























90 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Papa. Here is the picture of the Ibex. His colour varies 
from a reddish-brown in summer, to a grey-brown in winter. 
Mark the dark stripe that passes over his face and along his 
spine. His belly also is washed with a whitish-grey tint. 
His horns give a comical character to his face. They may he 
said to form a sort of apology in nature for some eccentric 
varieties in feminine head-dress. Some persons think that 
the number of ridges on the horns denotes the age of the 
animal. 

Edith. However this may he, his flesh is often heartily 
enjoyed by the hungry mountaineer, and Providence renders 
him subservient to the wants of man in cold and inhospitable 
lands. 

Tom. It must not, however, he supposed that they are only 
useful to man in icy and snowy regions. The goat will do 
well in districts that are too rocky, w r oody, and mountainous 
for sheep. As early as the time of the Prophet Samuel we 
find a pillow of goats’ hair supporting the head of the 
image with which Michal deceived 
the messengers of Saul, when he 
sought the life of David. Nor were 
they less useful to our forefathers 
When wigs were fashionable. The 
whitest were made of the hair of 
the common domestic goat. A good 
Welsh skin in the last century 
sold for a guinea. Bishops now 
have entirely discontinued the use 
of the wig, hut it is retained by the 
bench, and by the members of the 











USE OF GOATS’ SKIN AND HAIR. 91 


bar. Goats’ hair is largely used in the manufacture of 
these articles. Well, then, thousands of gloves are made 
of the skin of the kid. Its horns are useful for the handles 
of knives. The Welsh chandlers used to prefer the suet 
of the goat for candles, as being superior in whiteness and 
lighting power to that of the sheep and the ox. 

Charlotte. Yes, and the Welsh used often to salt and 
dry the haunches, as a substitute for bacon. This was 



WELSH GOATS. 


called hung venison. The pasties made of goat’s flesh went 
under the name of rock venison, and were thought by 
hungry travellers to rival those of the deer. 

Papa. It is remarkable that, as far as geological observa¬ 
tions have extended, no sheep or goats have been detected 
among the numerous fossil remains that have attracted 
the notice of the comparative anatomist. 

Charlotte . You were saying something about the in- 














92 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


telligence of the goat. They have some mode of communi¬ 
cating readily with each other. In Wales, w r hen two were 
yoked together, they would, as by consent, take wide and 
hazardous leaps, and yet so time 
their mutual efforts as rarely to 
miscarry in the attempt. 

Tom . Perhaps their power of 
taking long leaps from one moun¬ 
tain crag to another helps to 
account for the superstitious notion 
that witches used to employ the 
goat as the convenience on which 
they flew through the air to their 
diabolical festivals. 

Tom. Bacchus, the heathen god of wine, was supposed to 
hate the animal, because it loved to crop the tendrils of 
the vine, and thus destroyed the tree. So Bacchus, we 
are told, commanded the goat to 
be killed, and a bottle to be made 
out of his hide. 

Edith. Are not the beautiful 
and costly Cashmere shawls made 
of goat’s hair? 

Tapa. I would rather say of 
the soft, silken, and delicate wool 
of the Thibet goat. Then there 
is the Angora goat, which inhabits 
the tract that surrounds Angora and 
Beibazar, in Asiatic Turkey, where the goatherds bestow much 
care on their flocks, frequently combing and washing them. 




WITCH. 












ANCIENT BOTTLES MADE OF GOATS* SKINS 


93 




GOAT AND VINE 


Edith. Why did papa say that he preferred to speak 
of goat’s wool, rather than goat’s hair ? 

Papa. For a simple reason. The fur of the Cashmere 
goat is of two sorts; a soft woolly uMercoat of greyish 
hair, and a covering of long silken hairs, which seem to 
defend the interior coat from the effects of cold, and from 



ffj g 
























94 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



CASHMERE GOAT. 


many kinds of impurities. The woolly undercoat is the 
substance from which the Cashmere shawls are woven, 
and in order to make a single shawl a yard and a half 
square, at least ten goats are robbed of their natural 
covering. How often poor animals are made to suffer, in 
order to gratify the whims of the public! 

Edith. But why are Cashmere shawls made of the Thibet 
goat’s hair ? 

JPapa. The animal is a native of Thibet, and the neigh¬ 
bouring locality. The wool is taken to the Cashmere district 
to be woven. 
























USES OF THE GOAT. 


95 


Tom . There are some uses to which the common goat 
is put that are not generally known, but which alone 
ought to secure for him kind and generous treatment. 
It has been remarked that goats are the only animals 
that will boldly face lire, and that their chief use in a 
stable is to lead the horses from the stalls in case of the 
stables being burned. Horses are such nervous, excitable 
animals, that when their dwelling has taken fire they 
cannot be induced to face the dreaded element, and must 
see some other animal lead the way before they will dare 
to stir. It is also said, and apparently with reason, that 
in case of fire, a horse may be easily removed from the 
scene of danger by harnessing him as usual, instead of trying 
to lead him out at once. The animal has learned to connect 
obedience and trustfulness with the harness, and while he 
bears the bit in his mouth, and the saddle or traces on his 
back, he will go wherever he may be led. Blindfolding the 
horse is another good method of inducing the animal to 
follow his guide without hesitation in case of a fire. 

Charlotte . It would be well if the “ Boyal Society for 
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals” would publish a 
tract giving suggestions how to act with animals in case 
of fire. 

Edith. Do not forget that the goat is a kind of barometer, 
and is very useful in foretelling stormy weather. 

At country fairs you may sometimes observe him perched on 
the top of a pole, his four feet occupying a space not more 
than two or three inches square, Or trotting along a ridge 
ever so narrow, as if he were scampering over a plain. 

Papa. We have already spoken of goats in connexion with 










96 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


4 -(K w • U '9 - 



a parable; but what do you think of this anecdote of a 
Welsh clergyman ? He preached from the text “ Love one 

another,” and told his con¬ 
gregation that in kind and 
respectful treatment to our 
fellow-creatures we were inferior 
to the brute creation. As an 
illustration of the truth of this 
remark, he quoted an instance 
of two goats in his own parish, 
that once met upon a bridge so 
very narrow, that they could not 
pass by without one thrusting 
the other off into the river. “And,” continued he, “how 
do you think they acted? Why, I will tell you. One goat 
laid himself down and let the other leap over him. Ah ! 
beloved, let us live like goats.” Ho you not think that 
the method of illustration and the animal selected for the 
purpose were thoroughly Welsh? Let thus much be said 
about goats. In our next conversation we will find some 
other animal to occupy our attention. 

Tom. Stop a moment! Js it not Luther who narrates 
the story about the two goats which you attribute to the 
Welsh clergyman ? 

Papa. Now what say you to a little pleasant talk 
about weasels and mice ? 

Edith. Yes; but you must keep the weasels from the 
mice, or else the poor mice will very soon be destroyed. 
Weasels and mice! what a charming subject for an 
evening’s talk. 













GOATS ON MOUNTAIN PASS. 











































































CONVERSATION X. 

THE COMMON" MOUSE AND ITS VARIETIES-HARVEST 

MOUSE—BARBARY MOUSE— HAMSTER-FIELD- 

MOUSE—LEMMING—LABRAUOR JUMPING MOUSE. 

Papa. I suppose, children, that you 
have often seen mice. 

Freddie. Yes, I have seen them, 
hut not often. They scamper into their 
holes as soon as they hear the sound 
of a footstep, and one only catches a 
glimpse of their tails. 



— 

































THE MICE IN A MOATED GRANGE. 99 


Papa. The cook caught a little common mouse in a trap 
last night. It yielded to the temptation of a delicious morsel 
of toasted cheese, and so was captured. I hope, Freddie, 
that you will not give way to temptation. Never allow 
a mere desire or a passion to overpower your better judgment. 

Mary. Suppose we fetch the poor captive and get a 
good look at him. 

Torn , Here he is, papa, and his poor little heart almost 
beats through his skin for terror. Mark the brown-grey 
of his baok, and the delicate grey of his belly and throat. 
Ilia eyes sparkle like little black jewels. The paws remind 
one of the squirrel. 

Papa, Now, children, I propose that we let the poor 
little prisoner go. I think he has earned his freedom by 
the information that he has afforded us. 

JSditli. Yes; but I hope you will carry him a good way 
from the house before you open the trap, for sometimes 
I am awoke in the night by noises which our maid says 
are caused by rats or mice, but which would make a nervous 
person think that thieves were in the house. 

George , I am just old enough to remember the ancient 
moated grange which stood near the site of our present 
residence. This moat was nine or ten feet wide, and six or 
seven feet deep, but it was much choked with the accumulated 
mud of centuries, and with all kinds of water plants. Queer 
old wooden drains, consisting chiefly of bored trunks of 
trees, joined the house and the moat, making underground 
passages which, if they had been on a larger scale, would 
have furnished splendid material for the antiquary and 
the author. The house was said to be haunted. An ancient 

_-... ____> y-l -— ; —-- 













100 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


lawyer, who, it seems, had lived a life of chicanery and false¬ 
hood, was said, so went the story in the village, to have 
killed himself in a first-floor room of the Grange, in a closet 
of which he kept his parchments and papers. The family 



who resided here found it difficult to retain a domestic 
servant for more than six months. All had heard in turn 
old Hunks scuffling among his papers, turning over parch¬ 
ments, stopping for a minute or two as though reading, 























TAME MICE. 101 


and then rattling them as he turned them over again. 
On making some alterations in that room, it was found 
that the walls were canvas papered over, and that there 
were occasional narrow crossbars of timber morticed to the 
upright beams, so as to stiffen and strengthen them. Up 
the interstices the mice used to scratch their way, making 
a noise on the drum-like canvas not unlike that of hands 
searching among papers. When the wood-framing was 
pulled down and brickwork substituted, the haunting of 
the premises immediately ceased! 

Charlotte. If ricks are hut placed firmly upon staddles 
the mouse will not he able to reach the corn; and again, 
if a rick have a good roof, or 
be kept under cover, mice will 
either avoid it or not remain long 
in it. For they are thirsty souls, 
and cannot do long without a 
supply of clean water. 

Papa. When I was a hoy I used to tame mice, both 
the pied, white, and brown varieties. I grew very fond of 
many of these odd little animals, and used to watch 
their quaint gamesomeness with sincere delight. It has been 
remarked that they are as inquisitive as cats. A new piece 
of furniture, an uncommon-shaped dish, nay, even a new 
trap, they will examine with the greatest curiosity. 

Freddie . My friend Charlie, of whose friendship for rats 
I have already spoken, used to wonder why boys preferred 
white mice to brown. He says that the latter were far 
more susceptible of kindness, more teachable, and more 
easily tamed. 

















102 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



COMMON MOUSE — PIED, WHITE, AND BROWN. 


Mary . But why do brown mice die so often in con¬ 

finement ? 

Papa. Some may possibly die of chagrin and annoyance 
at being kept in captivity, but I believe that more are 
killed by want of attention to tlieir cages, and no dirt, 
nothing of an impure kind, must be left in their little bouses. 
Their bedding should be changed daily. Their house should 
have two or three false floors, so that one may be always 
clean and perfectly dry. Black wadding must not be used 
for them to lie upon. It has been known to snap the 
slender thread of mouse life in a single night. 
































SINGING MICE. 


103 


Eclith . What do you 



think? I once found that S 
I could not make my 
pianoforte give out any 
sounds. It was so much 
damaged from some un- m 


known cause that the 
maker fetched it away, the 


tuners not being able to mother and baby m.ce. 

repair it at home. Afterwards, under the sounding-board, 
a mouse-nest was found, nearly as large as a man’s head. 
It was composed almost entirely of leather and scraps of 
cloth, which had been stolen from the keys of the pianoforte. 

Mary. I once read that a person, on taking up some 
hoards in his room, found a mouse-nest about the size of 
a slop-basin, formed entirely of scraps of paper, in which 
were sleeping six or seven tiny, red, semi-transparent 
mouselets, through whose little bodies the substance of the 
bed on which they were lying could almost be seen* 

Charlotte. Is it true that mice sing? 

George. Yes, hut only, .it is said, when they have bron¬ 
chitis, whereas when men suffer from a cold, they lose the 
powers of the voice. 

Papa. This seems to he, by a balance of evidence against 
it, an erroneous opinion. It is much more likely that the 
singing of a mouse is voluntarily produced by the imitative 
powers of the performer. Let us hear what Mr. Wood says 
in his “ Illustrated Natural History.” “ In a letter to the 
Field newspaper, one of the correspondents gives a curious 
instance of ‘ singing,’ which favours the former of these 
















101 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


suppositions. A mouse had been caught in a trap with 
weak springs, and being half-choked by the wire pressing 
on its neck, gave vent to a twittering or chirruping, not 
unlike that of a small bird. Other correspondents, however, 
who have met with examples of singing mice, seem rather 
to incline to the opinion that the musical sound is produced 
by healthy animals, and is not owing to disease. A very 
interesting letter on this subject has been sent to me by 
the Rev. It. L. Bampfield, of Little Barfield, in Essex, and 
seems also to favour the latter supposition. By the kind 
permission of the writer, I am enabled to present the 
account to the reader, and will leave him to come to his 
own conclusions on the subject. 

“‘In a former residence of mine some mice took up their 
abode behind the wainscot in the kitchen. Erom motives 
which few housekeepers would appreciate, we allowed them 
to remain undisturbed; and most merry, cheerful little 
creatures they were. It seemed to us that a young brood 
was being carefully educated; hut they did not learn all 
their accomplishments from their parents. In the kitchen 
hung a good singing canary, and we observed that by degrees 
the chirp of the mice changed into an exact imitation of the 
canary’s song; at least it was so with one, for though several 
attempted it, one considerably excelled the rest. I am not 
sure that admiration of the music influenced them, for from 
the funny facetious way in which it was done, I should 
rather say it was out of mockery, or at least from a love 
of imitation. Yet the result was very pleasing; far inferior 
to the canary’s note in volume, strength, and sweetness, 
it was, perhaps, superior to it in softness and delicacy. 











ANECDOTES OF SINGING MICE. 105 


44 4 Often have I listened to it with pleasure in the evening, 
when the canary was asleep with its head beneath its wings; 
and more than once have I observed a kitchen guest glance 
at the canary, then look 
round in some astonishment 
and say, 44 Is that a bird, 
sir, singing ? ” One trust¬ 
worthy person assured me 
that he too had had in his 
house a similar 44 singing 
mouse.” I have, therefore, 
little doubt that, if a young 
family of mice were brought 
up from the first close to 
a canary or some other 
songster, some of them would learn to sing.’ 

44 1 have also been favoured with an account of a young 
singing rat, which endeavoured to imitate the sounds pro¬ 
duced by a piping bullfinch and an ordinary goldfinch. 
In the first, the creature entirely failed, hut was tolerably 
successful in its imitation of the mild notes of the goldfinch. 
The same animal would begin to sing if a melody were 
played in the minor key, but would give no response to 
the major. The fondness of mice for music is already well 
known, and may afford some clue to their sensitiveness of 
ear. I believe, by the way, that the untaught cries of all 
the lower animals, whether they be quadrupeds or birds, 
are in the minor key.” 

Mary. Have you seen this pretty picture of harvest mice, 
in the corn ? 

p 

















OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



106 


Edith. No, let me look at it, for the harvest mouse is 
described as the smallest and prettiest of British Mammalia, 

and I have often wanted to 
see what it was like. 

George. It is about five 
inches long, 'with fur of a 
reddish-brown colour, dark at 
the base of each hair, and 
warming into red at the 
point. The under part of 
the little animal is white. 

Charlotte. I have heard 
of the Bev. Gilbert White’s 
account of its nest: do you 
know wdiere it builds, papa? 

Papa. A nest was dis¬ 
covered by some mowers in 
a field in Wiltshire. It was 
built upon a scaffolding of 
four of the rank grass stems 
that are generally found on 
the sides of ditches, and w r as 
situated at some ten or eleven 
inches from the ground. It 
was round in form, and rather 
larger than a cricket-ball, 
quite empty, and probably only just finished when its 
scaffolding was cut down by the scythe. It was made of 
thin, dry grass, and so loosely put together that anything 
in it could be seen through the interstices as easily as 














THE NEST OF THE FIELD MOUSE. 107 


through au open-worked basket. There was no sign of any 
hole for entrance and exit, so how it was built is a 
puzzle. 

Edith. I remember reading that description, and it was 
supposed that the little builder must have remained in the 
middle while constructing it, and after weaving it around 
her pushed her way through the loosely woven grass, and 
arranged the holes outside so as not to sIioav. Or, perhaps, 
both mice help in the work, one plaiting inside, and the other 
bringing fresh grass and filling up holes outside. 

Mary. When there are little mice inside, I wonder how 
their father and mother get at them to feed them. 

George. They probably poke openings opposite each little 
one, and when it is fed, make the grass tidy and put it hack 
in its place again, 

Papa. The nest that Mr, White describes was entirely 
filled by the bodies of eight young harvest mice, and he 
Avonders Iiqav such a little thing Avould expand to accommodate 
itself to their grQAVth; but the materials are so interAA OA T en, 
that it will stretch a great deal without spoiling its shape. 

Mary, How very curious! Then I suppose the house 
stretches as the little inmates grow. 

Edith. There is a great deal of difference between this 
picture, and that of a common mouse. Observe, this little 
creature’s ears are shorter, and its eyes do not project so 
much. I shall knoAV a han r est mouse now, directly' I see one. 

Charlotte. Mr. Bingley kept one in a cage. It Avas very 
fond of bluebottle flies and other insects, to eat, so that it 
likes different food from other mice. You might call it an 
ec insectivorous ” animal. 













108 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Tom. But you must not suppose that they are not a 
trouble to the farmer, for Mr. White goes on to observe:— 

“ They never enter into houses; 
are carried into ricks and barns 
with the sheaves, abound in 
harvest, and build their nests 
amidst the straws of the corn 
above the ground, and some¬ 
times in thistles. They breed 
as many as eight at a litter, in 
a little round nest composed of 
the blades of grass or wheat. 
One of these I procured this 
autumn most artificially plaited, 
and composed of the blades of 
wheat, perfectly round, and 
about the size of a cricket- 
ball ; with the opening so ingeniously closed, that there was 
no discovering to what part it belonged. It was so compact 
and well fitted that it would roll across the table without 
being discomposed, though it contained eight little mice 
that were naked and blind. As this nest was perfectly 
full, how could the dam come at her litter respectively so as 
to administer a teat to each ? Perhaps she opens different 
places for that purpose, putting them to rights again when 
the business is over; but she could not be contained her¬ 
self in the ball with her young, which moreover would be 
daily increasing in bulk. This wonderful elastic cradle, 
an elegant instance of the efforts of instinct, was found in a 
wheat field suspended in the head of a thistle.’ 5 And again:— 

















THE NEST OF THE FIELD MOUSE 


109 


“As to the small mice, I have further to remark, that 
though they hang their nests for their children up amidst 
the straws of standing corn above the ground, yet I find 
that, in the winter, they burrow deep in the earth, and 



make warm beds of grass; but their grand rendezvous seems 
to be in corn-ricks into which they are carried at harvest. 
A neighbour housed an oat-rick lately, under the thatch 
of which were assembled near a hundred, most of which 
















110 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


were taken, and some I saw. I measured them and 
found that from nose to tail they were just two inches 

and a quarter, and their 
tails just two inches long. 
Two of them, in a scale, 
weighed down just one 
copper halfpenny, which 
is about the third of an 
ounce avoirdupois; so that 
I suppose they are the 
smallest quadrupeds in this 
island. A full-grown mns 
medim domestious weighs, I find, one ounce lumping weight, 
which is more than six times as much as the mouse above, and 
measures from nose to rump four inches and a quarter, and 
the same in its tail. ... As my neighbour w^as housing a 
rick, he observed that his dogs devoured all the little red 
mice they could catch, hut rejected the common mice; and 
that his cats ate the common mice, refusing the red.” 

Papa . There is a very handsome animal, midway in size 
between a mouse and a rat, called the Barbary mouse. It 
always excites attention at the * Zoological Gardens, running 
about its cage in a lively and cheerful manner, sometimes 
diving among its bedding, and apparently delighted to sliow r 
off its beautiful fur. 

Edith. In all this it forms a perfect contrast to a rat-like 
mouse, or a mouse-like rat, that I once saw wdien travelling in 
Germany. If animals are types of men, I should say that, on 
its good side, the hamster represents the provident man, who 
lays up a good store for the time to come, and the man of 



THE FIELD MOUSE’S CARRIAGE. 












FIELD MICE AND THEIR NEST. 


P. 110. 



























THE HAMSTER. • 111 


sturdy, persevering courage, who is just the person to lead a 
forlorn hope. On his had side, he represents grovelling stupi¬ 
dity, gluttony, and cannibalism. He is a great plague to the 
Prussian farmer, who wages against him a war of extermina¬ 
tion. Besides this, his fur is of some value in commerce, so 
that he is hunted down for the sake of his skin. But in spite 
of his enemies he holds his own, for the females have several 



BAKEARY MOUSE. 


broods in every year, and the average number of each family 
consists of ten or twelve* 

Mary. If you examine his cheeks carefully, you will observe 
that he has two large pouches, one on each side of the face. 
Into these he manages to stuff a considerable amount ot grain 
















OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


112 


and other plunder. He can give them, when empty, a puffy 
appearance, hy tilling them with air at pleasure. His tail is a 
little ugly protuberance, not more than three inches in length. 
The hamster is a regular Troglodyte. 

Freddy. What in the world, Mary, is a Troglodyte ? 

Mary. A Troglodyte is one who conceals himself, or lives in 
holes; an inhabitant of caverns, whether natural or artificial. 



The golden-crested wren Used to be called a Troglodyte, 
because it was supposed to burrow. 

Fapa. Every season, as summer advances, the hamster 
begins to excavate downwards, throwing out the earth, as he 
loosens it, behind him. At some depth below the surface he 
forms several large chambers, communicating with each other 








THE HAMSTER A GREAT PLUNDERER. 113 


by horizontal passages. These chambers are ventilated by 
means of a perpendicular funnel or shaft, distinct from the 
sloping entrance. Some of his rooms lie reserves as a store 
for his food. One he lives in himself, and provides another 
to be the harem of his wife. This mine-like residence is from 
three to five feet below the surface of the earth. He is a 
terrible plunderer, for when he has crammed his cheek 
pouches with grain, pressing it firmly with his paws to lose 
no space, he carries it off to his abode beneath the earth, 
deposits it, and returns for more. 

Edith. Yes, one hamster has been known to hoard a hun¬ 
dredweight of beans, and another a scarcely less considerable 
quantity of corn. 

Mary. But in one respect he shows much want of cunning, 
for he always throws up at the entrance to his burrow all the 
earth that he has excavated. In this way the hunter finds 
out his haunts, and. destroys fathers, mothers, and children 
by thousands. 

Papa. It was stated at the beginning of our conversation, 
that an irritable hamster formed an excellent type of the 
sturdy courage adapted to lead a forlorn hope. 

Edith . Yes; he does not hesitate to fly at a bulldog. It 
is said, that upon one occasion a poker nearly red hot was 
seized by one of these animals with his teeth. It was with 
great difficulty that he was forced to let go of the poker, 
though he must have suffered excruciating agony. A hamster’s 
wife has been known to fight her husband with such wild 
ferocity that the male has been killed in the encounter, when 
his widow celebrated her triumph by devouring part of his 
remains. 

Q 














114 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


George. What is a campagnol ? 

Papa. This is another name for the short-tailed field- 
mouse. It is akin to the water-vole, and is sometimes called 
the field-vole. 

Mary. Once when I was walking in the marshy meadows, 
I came upon a large number of these pretty little animals. 



CAMPAGNOL. 


Their progress was silent and almost imperceptible. Their 
colour is a ruddy brown on the upper surface of the body, 
and grey on the chest and belly. Being so much like the 
soil, it is hard to distinguish them: you see a little reddish 
thing moving in the grass, hut unless you pounce upon it 
immediately the strange substance disappears. 

Edith. When I was travelling in Holstein and Denmark 
last summer, I had an opportunity of going over to Stockholm, 


- 









THE LEMMING. 


115 


when I heard that Lapland and Norway had been visited by 
an invasion of thousands of little animals of the mouse tribe, 
coming nobody knew from whence, and disappearing nobody 
knew how. These creatures are called lemmings, and some 
superstitious people thought that they had been rained down 
from the clouds as a punishment for the sins of the people. 



LEMMING. 


Mary . Mr. Wood, in his “ Illustrated Natural History,” 
gives a highly picturesque and vigorous description of the 
lemming and its migrations. 

Papa. Pray read it to us. 

Mary . “ Driven onwards by some overpowering instinct, 
these vast hordes travel in a straight line, permitting nothing 
but a smooth perpendicular wall or rock to turn them from 
their course. If they should happen to meet with any living 










116 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



being, they immediately attack, knowing no fear, but only 
urged by undiscriminating rage. Any 
river or lake they swim without hesi¬ 
tation, and rather seem to enjoy the 
water than to fear it. If a stack or 
a corn-rick should stand in their way, 
they settle the matter by eating their 
way through it, and will not be turned 
from their direct course even by fire. 
The country over which they pass 
is utterly devastated by them, and 
it is said that cattle will not touch 
the grass on which a lemming has 
trotten, 

“ These migrating hosts are accom¬ 
panied by clouds of predaceous birds, 
and by uiany predaceous quadrupeds, 
who find a continual feast spread for 
them as long as the lemmings are 
on their pilgrimage. While they are 
crossing the rivers or lakes, the fish 
come in for their share of the ban¬ 
quet, and make great havoc among 
their columns. It is a very remark¬ 
able fact that the reindeer is often 
seen in chase of the lemmings, and 
the Norwegians say that the deer is 
aoRWEGiA* s^kne. i n the habit of eating them, This 

statement, however, seems to be of rather doubtful character. 
The termination of these extraordinary migrations is generally 

















THE LABRADOR JUMPING MOUSE. 


117 


in the sea, where the survivors of the much reduced ranks 
finally perish. 

“ Mr. Lloyd mentions that just before his visit to Werme- 
land, the lemming had overrun the whole country. The 
primary cause of these strange migrations is generally 
thought to he hunger. It is fortunate for the country that 
these razzias only occur at rare intervals, a space of some ten 
or fifteen years generally elapsing between them, as if to fill 
up the places of those which were drowned or otherwise 
killed in the preceding migration. 

“ The lemming feeds upon various vegetable substances, 
such as grass, reeds, and lichens, being often forced to seek 
the last-named plant beneath the snow, and to make occasional 
air-shafts to the surface. Even when engaged in their ordinary 
pursuits, and not excited by the wandering instinct, they are 
obstinately savage creatures. Mr. Metcalfe describes them as 
swarming in the forest, sitting two or three on every stump, 
and biting the dogs* noses as they came to investigate the 
character of the irritable little animals. If they happened 
to he in a pathway, they would not turn aside to permit a 
passenger to move by them, but boldly disputed the right of 
way, and uttered defiance in little sharp, squeaking harks. 
The colour of the lemming is dark brownish-black, mixed 
irregularly with a tawny hue upon the back, and fading into 
yellowish-white upon the abdomen. Its length is not quite 
six inches, the tail being only half an inch long.” 

Tom. In some of oTfr museums there are specimens of a queer 
little animal from America, common in the Eur countries, as 
far as the Great Slave Lake, and perhaps farther. It is called 
the Labrador jumping mouse. The Ojibaway Indians call it 











118 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


the katse , or the leaper. It moves by taking long jumps or 
springs; it is almost exactly like an animal at the Cape of 
Good Hope, called by the Dutch spring-has , or jumping hare. 
It sleeps during the day, and goes out by night. It has been 
known to leap twenty or thirty feet at a bound. It sits nearly 



LABRADOR JUMPING MOUSE 


upright, resting partly on its long tail, the hind legs being 
extended horizontally. It brings its food to its mouth by 
means of its short fore-feet. Its strength is prodigious, con¬ 
sidering its size; its fore-feet are furnished with scoop-like 
claws or nails, admirably adapted for burrowing. It digs a 
hole to hide in with marvellous swiftness. It sleeps in a 





















DR. moffatt’s remarks. 119 


sitting posture, placing the head between the legs, and pro¬ 
tecting its eyes by holding the ears over them with its fore-feet. 

Freddie . How various and wonderful are the works of God ! 
A poet once said, “An undevout astronomer is mad:” surely 
no one can study animal life without being tilled with 
reverential awe. 

Mary. Yes; and let us not forget the impressive language 
in which the poet has embodied the Divine rule of mercy to 
all sentient beings : — 

“ Never to blend our pleasure or our pride 
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.” 

Fapa. Dr. Moffatt of Galway has just published some 
eloquent remarks upon this subject, which I will read to 
you at length. After some well-timed observations on the 
sufferings of cattle in their passage from Ireland to England, 
he remarks:— 

“ The recognition of our duties to the lower animals, so 
far from being antagonistic to philanthropy, would, according 
to very simple and well-understood laws of human nature, 
react on our feelings towards our fellow-men, and strengthen 
and draw closer human ties; thus is Mercy ‘twice blessed.’ 
While, on the other hand, it does not need the terrible pictures 
of Hogarth, nor the proverbs of the wise king, to teach us 
how corrupting and demoralizing a thing is cruelty; how it 
can pervert the feelings and character, and replace the best 
capacities of manhood with the worst; blunting the moral 
sensibility, supplanting the very germ of the divinest virtue 
that man can exercise^—the virtue of perfect charity, which 
calls no creature too common for compassion, and which 
considers no agony so vulgar that it should he left to cry 














120 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


in vain for comfort; and ultimately, and in the way of 
natural consequence—I might perhaps say, of just retribution 
—debasing and degrading the mind that indulges it and the 
community that tolerates it, to that condition which has been 
justly called the last stage of human depravity, when the 
infliction of pain becomes pleasing for its own sake, when the 
sight of suffering as suffering, where no advantage is to be 
gained, no offence punished, no danger averted, has become 
an agreeable excitement. Which of us has not sometimes 
encountered such depraved natures ? And history presents 
to us examples on the large scale. The most prominent and 
palpable characteristic of society in ancient Rome, during the 
period of its decline, was remorseless cruelty towards man as 

well as all the inferior creation. 
Then it was that the rank, the 
refinement, and the philosophy, 
the beauty and the fashion of 
the imperial city thronged the 
benches of the vast Amphitheatre, 
to make holiday on the agonies 
of innocent human beings thrown 
to wild beasts; the supremacy of 
man being thus surrendered to ag¬ 
gravate the bitterness of suffering. 
These times are past, without fear, we believe, of their re¬ 
currence. The modern world acknowledges a more elevated 
standard of morality; it has recognised more comprehensive 
human relations and responsibilities, and it professes a more 
catholic sentiment of duty, and broader and deeper sympathies 
with all that concerns the welfare of our common race. Now, 



AMPHITHEATRE. 


—----- 


















Coleridge’s “ancient mariner.” 


121 


as never before, for the capable ear, ‘the still sad music of 
humanity ’ tills the air, and sweeps the chords of feeling; the 
advent has been hymned of an age of sweeter manners, purer 
laws, nobler modes of life. Let us hope that, amidst the 
developments of civilization reserved for tlie coming time, 
the responsibilities pertaining to the sovereign position which 
man holds in relation to the other species shall cease to be 
ignored; that the lessons which the gentleness, and patience, 
and faithful service of many of them are so capable of im¬ 
parting, shall at length be learned; and that their ‘ unbought, 
untaught ’ affection,— 

1 That strength of feeling, great 
Above all human estimate,’— 

shall receive its long-deferred appreciation and requital. Some 
may smile at such views as sentimental, and such anticipations 
as visionary and Utopian; but let it be remembered that the 
most practical as well as the most profound thinkers of our 
century have concurred in enforcing such obligations, and in 
portraying such a future. Two men whom Mr. Mill desig¬ 
nates ‘ the two great seminal minds of England in their age, 
the teachers of the teachers,’ Coleridge and Bentham—and it 
Avould be difficult to find two persons of philosophic eminence 
more exactly the contrary of one another—are in this at one. 
To inculcate the duty was the purpose of that wondrous 
poem ‘ The Ancient Mariner : ’— 

1 He prayeth well, who loveth well 
Both man, «»d bird, and beast: 

He prayeth best, who loveth best 
All things both great and small; 

For the dear God, who loveth us, 

He made and loveth all.’ 

R 
















122 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURSj 


The only fault, indeed, of the poem, in the opinion of its 
author, was that ‘ there was too much moral in it.’ e I ought 
not to have stopped,’ said Coleridge, ‘to give reasons for 
things, or inculcate humanity for beasts. “ The Arabian 
Nights” might have taught me better.’ While the great 
Utilitarian moralist—to whom above all men the merit is 
due of the thorough-going and beneficent reformation of the 
law that has been long in progress, and which is the chief 
glory of our age—has expressed his positive expectation in 
language of characteristic quaintness : ‘ Assuredly it will come 
one day to be generally recognised that the number of the 
legs, the villosity of the skin, or the termination of the os 
sacrum are reasons insufficient for abandoning a sensitive 
creature to the caprices of a tormentor.’ Men differing so 
widely in constitutional sensibility and habits of thought as 
Cowper and Southey, Sydney Smith and Ur. Parr, have de¬ 
scribed mercy to beings of an inferior species as a primal 
duty, and one of the most ennobling attributes of man. It 
was this theme that drew from Chalmers that appeal which 
has never been surpassed in power and pathos; it was to this 
cause that Erskine devoted his latest energies; the condition 
and destiny of these creatures sorely troubled the mind of 
Arnold, and painfully heightened for him the mystery of 
existence. And I may mention another—one prematurely lost 
to science and to the world, but not unworthy to be classed 
with those I have named — I allude to the late Professor 
Boole. Once, when mentioning to me that he had long had 
in contemplation an essay on this subject, which I know 
weighed heavily on his, thoughts and feelings—for his sym¬ 
pathies were as strong and as far-reaching as liis intellect— 

















PROFESSOR BOOLE. 


123 


he declared that be would esteem it a higher happiness to he 
able to awaken the public conscience to a sense of this duty 
than to attain the intellectual fame of Newton. ‘The surest 
touchstone/ he remarked, ‘of a man’s moral character is his 
treatment of the lower animals that come within his power, 
for these he can wrong with impunity.’ ” 

Freddie. Thank you, papa; but to think that you should 
have made such a long story about the jumping mouse! 

Tom. I thank you, too, papa! I am sure that those 
thoughtless men, who tease a poor dog till he snaps at them, 
and then beat him for snapping, would be wiser and better 
for reading Dr. Moffatt’s excellent observations. 




















FERRET. 


CONVERSATION XI. 

THE WEASEL—THE FERRET— FERRETS THE TYPE OF SLANDERERS—THE POLECAT 
FERRET—THE WEASEL AND THE RATS-—ANECDOTES OF WEASELS. 

Freddie. I think you said, Papa, that weasels were to he 
the subject of our conversation to-night. 

Fapa. Yes, and ferrets too. 

Mary. The other day we had the rat-catchers here. They 
had three or four ferrets with them; they told me that these 
animals originally came from Africa. “They feel cold very 
much during the winter,” said the rat-catchers; “ we fill the 
box where they live with cotton-wool.” Sometimes, in the early 
warm spring, a ferret will run away from its owner, and live 
on rabbits and game during the whole of the summer. But 
when the cold nights of September and October return, the 




















THE TREACHEROUS EERRET. 125 


truant has been known to comeback again to bis warm hutch, 
and, as it were, to solicit the forgiveness and good offices of 
his old master,—a warning to all truants, whether boys or 
girls. 

Tom . I have remarked that ferrets are like those persons 
of uncertain temper and impetuous, impulsive disposition, who 
suddenly turn round upon their friends and bite them with 



TOLKCAT FERRET. 


calumny. I have read of a hoy, who had a beautiful white 
ferret. He had carefully tamed it, and never allowed it to be 
cruelly treated. He carried it in his pocket, where it was kept 
warm and comfortable, and it crawled up his coat sleeve. He 
trusted the creature as thoroughly as my friend Charlie did 
his rats. But one hot day, being irritated from some unknown 
cause, he made a snap at his owner’s lips, and bit him 
severely. 















126 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Edith. There is another kind of ferret, used for the purpose 
of hunting game, besides the pretty creamy-white creature with 
bright pink eyes, of which Tom has been speaking. I mean 
the polecat ferret. Some have thought that the polecat and 
ferret are identical in species. Others maintain that they 
are different, because the polecat is found to hear without 
inconvenience the severest cold, and to track its prey for miles 
over the snow. Be this as it may, polecat ferrets, though 
larger, darker, and fiercer-looking than the other sort, are 

often thoroughly tamed. They will 
accompany a kind master in his 
walks, with the cheerfulness and 
fidelity of a dog. Sometimes a hell 
has been hung round the animal’s 
neck, lest he should run away. 

Freddie. I observe that when the 
gamekeepers use ferrets for the 
purpose of hunting rabbits, they 
fasten up their jaws. Why is this? 
Is not this a cruel and unjust prac¬ 
tice, and very much like muzzling 
the ox that treadeth out the corn ? 

Papa. The practice is necessary. They are fond of sucking 
blood, and if they once got into a burrow and found a rabbit, 
they would in all likelihood never come out again until they 
had sucked out the last drop from their prey. Some modes of 
muzzling the ferret are abominable. Formerly the lips of the 
poor creature were sewn up whenever he was required for 
hunting. The best muzzle that can he devised is one made 
of leather. 



WARREN KR. 














FERRETS, RABBITS, AND RATS. 127 


Tom. I once saw a ferret let loose among the burrows of 
a rabbit warren. The poor rabbits never attempted to fight 
him, but rushed out of their burrows wherever he went, 
scampering about in wild horror and confusion. They thus 
became an easy prey to the hunter. 

Edith. But ferrets do not like to enter a rat’s hole. In 
fact, a ferretj though accustomed to chase the rabbit, will 
not venture to face a well-grown and vicious old rat; Just 



WILD RABBIT. 


as a burnt child dreads the fire, so a ferret, that once has 
felt the .sharp teeth of a rat, is in no humour to encounter 
him again. 

Charlotte. But I remember once reading, in Mr. Bodwell’s 
amusing book upon rats, that the polecat ferret is trained to 
fight and to destroy its long-tailed foes. An old rat-catcher 
used to say that to put a ferret into a rat-liole was like cram- 













128 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


ming a cat into a boot—in other words, the ferret’s chance of 
victory lay in the fight being open, so that he could attack, 
retreat, and circumvent at will, fighting something like the 
Horatii and Curiatii, as described in Livy’s famous story. 

JPapa. What an idea, to compare a fight between rats and 
ferrets to the combats of the grand old Romans! 

Charlotte. As for that* wait till you have heard Mr. 
Rodwell’s narrative, describing not only the Strength and 
agility of the ferret, but the modes of attack and defence 
practised by both kinds of animals. 

Tom. I know both passages : Mr. Rodwell’s is quite Liviaii 
in spirit. The old Patavine might say over it, as Sir Walter 
Scott did over Horace Smith’s celebrated poem in the 54 [Re¬ 
jected Addresses: ”— 44 1 am not sure that I wrote those Verses, 
but I have written something very much like them.’* Hear 
Mr. Rodwell:— 

44 One evening I called upon an acquaintance Of mine, and 
found him just going to decide a wager respecting a large 
male ferret of the polecat breed, which was to destroy fifty 
rats within the hour. It must be borne in mind that this 
ferret was trained for the purpose. 

44 The rats were placed in a large square measuring eight 
or ten feet from corner to corner. The ferret was put in, and 
it was astonishing to see the systematic way in which he set 
about his work. Some of the larger rats were very great 
cowards, and surrendered with scarcely a struggle, while some 
of the smaller, or three-parts grown ones, fought most des¬ 
perately. One of these drew my particular attention. The 
ferret, in making his attacks, was beaten off several times, 
to his great discomfiture, for the rat bit him most severely. 


























THE EERRET AND THE RATS, 


129 


At last the ferret bustled the fight, and succeeded in getting 
the rat upon its back, with one of his feet upon the lower part 
of its belly. In this position they remained for some minutes, 
with their heads close to each other and their mouths wide 
open. The ferret was rather exhausted with his former con¬ 
flicts, and at every move he made the rat hit him. At last he 
lost his temper, and making one desperate effort, he succeeded 



FERRETS. 


in getting the rat within his deadly grasp. He threw himself 
upon his side, and drawing the rat close to him, he fixed his 
teeth in its neck. 

“ While thus engaged, a rat was running carelessly about. 
All at once, when near the ferret, it threw up its head, as if a 
new idea had struck it; it retreated till it met with another, 
and it was astonishing to see the instantaneous effect produced 
in the second. Off they ran together to the corner where the 
ferret lay. The fact was, they scented the blood of either the 


s 














130 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


rat or the ferret, which in both was running in profusion. 
Without any further ceremony they seized the ferret fast 
by the crown of the head, and drew themselves up, apparently, 
lor a comfortable meal. The ferret, feeling the smart, 
thought it was his old opponent that was struggling in his 
grasp, and bit his lifeless victim most furiously. Presently he 
let go the dead rat, and seemed astonished at the bravery of 
the others. He began to struggle, and they seemed quite 
offended at being disturbed at their repast. He very soon, 
however, succeeded in catching hold of one of them, and the 
other ran away; but only for a few seconds. The ferret 
demolished the whole fifty considerably under the hour.” 

Mary . It appears to me that the practice here so cleverly 
described is clearly indefensible in the light of humanity and 
civilization. It is a relic of the old, brutalizing heathenism, 
and properly belongs to the aera wdien the huge Elavian 
Amphitheatre was filled with an eager crowd ready to gloat 
over lions fighting elephants, and tigers pitted against 
the savage Dacian, or ever-courageous inhabitant of the 
British isles. This sort of battue delighted Nana Sahib, 
and was popular with the miserable dynasty which formerly 
tyrannized over Oude. 

George . There are some men who have such overweening 
self-consciousness, such vulgar and vain pretence, that they 
hold all beings, except themselves, in most sovereign con¬ 
tempt. They are well represented in unreasoning animals by 
the weasel. It is extremely small, a full-grown male being 
about ten inches in length. Its hair is reddish-brown on 
the upper parts of the body, the under portions being of pure 
white. 













THE WEASEL AND THE HOOKS. 131 


htcddic, It is indeed a brave little animal. If rhinoceroses 
lived and ruled in England, the weasel would fight with them 
for the government of the country; 

Mary. Some farmers do not like weasels, looking upon 
them as mere vermin. But on the whole they are useful in 
agriculture, as they keep clown the rats and mice. 



Weasel. 

Edith, I believe that when they suck an egg they do not 
break the shell to pieces, but only make a little hole at 
one end. 

Tom, Weasels will hever bear an insult with impunity. 
One day a number of saucy rooks found a weasel in a field, 
and, as they thought him destitute of defence, they began 
mobbing the poor creature, and cawing with a great noise. 
He seized one making a lower stoop than usual, dashed it to 















132 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS; 


the ground, and killed it instantly. The feathered friends of 
the bird gathered round the dead with a mighty clamour. 
The weasel calmly retired into a place of security, and there 
waited for an opportunity to carry off his prey. 

George. It is remarkable that the weasel is in other respects 
a type of mankind; Goethe somewhere speaks of the strange 
delirium which he felt at the battle of Yalmy. Soldiers 
say, that when in the heat of battle everything seems tinted 
with a blood-red hue, so the savage spirit of this animal, for 
killing’s sake, kills more than it can eat, and all that it 
encounters, apparently for the mere pleasure of killing. 

JPapd. Mi 4 . Bell* in his “ History of British Quadrupeds,” 
gives us two anecdotes* illustrative of courage in the weasel. 
Let me read them to you “ As a gentleman was riding over 
his grounds he saw a kite pounce upon some object and carry 
it from the ground. In a short time the kite showed symp¬ 
toms of uneasiness, trying to free itself from some annoying 
object by means of its talons, and flapping about in a very 
bewildered manner. In a few minutes the kite fell dead to 
the earth, and when the spectator of the aerial combat ap¬ 
proached, a weasel ran away from the dead body of the bird, 
itself being apparently uninjured. On examination of the 
kite’s body, it was found that the weasel, which had been 
marked out for the kite’s repast, had in its turn become the 
assailant, and had attacked the unprotected parts which lie 
beneath the wings. A considerable wound had been made in 
that spot, and the large blood-vessels torn through. 

“ The same writer relates a curious anecdote of the conduct 
of a weasel towards a snake which was placed in the same box. 
The snake did not attempt to attack the weasel, nor the weasel 

















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;y v 

'HH . r 



\v'll 

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I 

X] 



BRITISH WEASELS 


P. 132 













































































































































































THE KITE AND THE WEASEL. 


133 


the snake, both animals appearing equally unwilling to become 
the assailant. After a while the weasel hit the snake once or 
twice near the nose, hut not with any degree of violence, and 



KITE POUNCING ON A WEASEL. 


as the two creatures appeared to he indifferent to each other, 
the snake was removed. That this peaceable demeanour on 
the part of the weasel was not owing to any sluggishness on 
its own part was made sufficiently evident by the fact, that 
when a mouse was introduced into the same box, the weasel 















OTJll DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


134 


immediately issued from its corner, and with a single bite laid 
the mouse dead. The experiment was made for the purpose 
of ascertaining whether the weasel would kill and eat a snake, 
which had been asserted to be the case.” 

Charlotte. And a stupid, vulgar experiment it was, un¬ 
worthy of science and disgraceful to humanity. 

Edith. Yes: of what possible advantage could it be ? 













GUINEA-PIGS. 


CONVERSATION XII. 

THE GUINEA-PIG AND THE HARE. 

Freddie . Why is a guinea-pig so called ? 

Fapa. This name is singularly inappropriate, for it is not a 
pig at all. It is a rodent animal like the hare, and it does 
not come from Guinea, for it was said to have been originally 
imported from the Brazils. 

Freddie . I cannot say that my guinea-pigs are clever 
and quick. They are unimpressihle and dull. But they are 
very tame, and I find I must keep them dry and warm, or 





















136 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



they die. Why do rabbit-keepers breed these queer, funny 
little animals ? 

Tom. The idea is common that rats carefully avoid them, 
and that they are a protection to the young stock. They feed 
upon such food as rabbits like, as grain and bran. It is said 
that they are fond of tea leaves, hut must not have too many 
of them. They have rarely less than two or more than six at 
a litter. They are not so large as a 
rabbit. They are of varied colours, 
white, black, and fawn. 

Edith. I prefer the tortoiseshell. 
Charlotte. Give me a nice little 
white one with pink eyes. 

Mary. I do not think that the 
notion that rats have a special 
antipathy to the guinea-pig is 

PUINEA-PIG. J. V A 

founded on fact, for one night all 
my guinea-pigs, which we had left wandering loose about 
the out-house where the rabbits lived in hutches, were 
devoured by rats. 

Charlotte. In the beginning of our conversations we 
quoted a fine passage from Cowper’s Poems, referring to the 
squirrel and the hare among other dumb neighbours. The poet 
in this passage called the latter timid. Observant naturalists 
say that this is an inappropriate epithet. He is courageous 
enough, hut when the little fellow finds that he is hunted 
down by numbers of dogs followed by men on fleet horses, he 
naturally runs away as fast as he can. The strongest man 
would hardly dare to brave the onset of a hunting-field. 

Tom. As a proof of the courage of the hare it may be 















COURAGE OF THE HARE. 137 



HAKES, 


stated that they fight their own species in the most savage 
manner. A mother will fly in a man’s face in defence of her 
leveret. Observe that a hare never walks. It hops or leaps, 
and sometimes takes tremendous strides. It has been known 
to jump over a perpendicular wall eight feet high. 

Edith. There are few animals in creation more cunning. 
I remember one day being in a train which was stopped in 
its progress by a collision on a part of the Midland Railway, 

T 

















138 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



between Trent and Chesterfield. Suddenly there were great 
shouts and excitement in all the carriages of the train. A 

hare was seen coming along a 
field parallel to the line at a great 
pace. A hound shortly followed, 
evidently on the scent. In order 
to break it, she dashed under 
the railway carriages, and came 
out on the other side, several 
times. She manoeuvred most craftily by returning on her 
own track for a little way, and then making a great leap 
to. the right or the left. In our case the hare made her 
escape, and the hound wandered helplessly up and down 
the line. 

Tom. It is not, I believe, generally known that, in order 
to break the line of scent, a hare 
will leap into running water. A 
hare has sometimes been seen to 
brave the salt waters. He is an 
excellent swimmer. The chief 
defect in his mental constitution, 
if I may so speak, is that he looks 
more to things behind than before, 
and has sometimes been known 
to run into the midst of hounds 
and huntsmen without, apparently, the slightest consciousness 
that they were near. 

Papa. In some parts of Poland, where the snow lies deep 
in the winter, the hare chooses a suitable spot for her form, 
and allows the snow to fall around and above her. Merely 













THE IRISH HARE. 139 


pushing it a few inches away from her body on all sides, she 
thus dwells in a little cave, enclosed on all sides. Her warm 
breath thaws the snow about an inch above her nose, and in 
this way she has an air-hole to breathe through. But the 
method she takes for safety is often the cause of her capture. 
Dogs are trained to search for these air-holes, and wait till 
their masters arrive to shoot the poor victim. 

Edith. I believe you wish me to take part in these conver¬ 
sations because I have travelled in most countries of Europe. 
You know that in Ireland the people are for the most part 
very different in character and tone from their neighbours in 
England and Scotland. The hares are equally distinguished 
from their English relatives. Their heads are round, not 
oblong, and their limbs and ears comparatively stumpy. I 
am not sure whether the coat of this variety whitens or not 
during the winter. 

Papa. The following story shows what a hold swimmer 
the English hare is:—“ A harbour of great extent on our 
southern coast has an island, near the middle, of consider¬ 
able size, the nearest point of which is a mile distant from 
the mainland at high water, and with which point there 
is frequent communication by a ferry. Early one morning 
in spring two hares were observed to come down from the 
hills of the mainland towards the sea-side, one of which, from 
time to time, left its companion, and proceeding to the very 
edge of the water, stopped there a minute or two, and then 
returned to its mate. The tide was rising, and after waiting 
some time, one of them, exactly at high water, took to the 
sea, and swam rapidly over in a straight line to the opposite 
projecting point of land. The observer on this occasion, who 











140 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


was near the spot, but remained unperceived by the hares, 
had no doubt they were of different sexes, and that it was 
the male that swam across the water, as he had probably 
done many times before. The hares remained on the shore 



nearly half an hour; one of them occasionally examining’, 
as it would seem, the state of the current, and taking to 
’ the sea at that precise period of the tide called slack water, 
when the passage across could be effected without being 
carried by the stream either above or below the desired 
point of landing. The other hare then cantered back to 
the 1^118.” 
























Freddie. Why are rabbits 
called coneys ? 

Fapa. In most likelihood 
this word is a shortening and P 
corruption of the Latin word 
cuniculus. The rabbit is called 
coniglio by the Italians; conejo 
by the Spaniards; coelho by the 
Portuguese; koniglien and ka = 
ninclien by the Germans; konyn 
or konin by the Dutch and 
Belgians; kcmin by the Swedes; 
kanine by the Danes; owningen 
by the ancient British. 


CONVERSATION XIII. 

RABBITS. 










142 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Tom. There are few four-footed animals which have such 
enormous families as rabbits. They produce several broods 
in a year, and generally from five to seven or eight at 
a time. 

Mary. No animal makes a nicer or sweeter little pet than 
a rabbit. 

Tom. It is astonishing how different the pure lop-eared 
variety of the tame rabbit is from 
the little brown short-furred wild 
rabbit of the warren. 

Tditli. I do not think they are 
half so amusing and comical in a 
state of domestication as they are 
when running wild in the warren. 
The latter are the funniest creatures 
in the world; they are for the most 
part of a grey colour, but a few 
black, black-and-white, and even fawn-coloured rabbits are 
to be seen in some warrens. 

Mary. Why is it that the flesh of a wild rabbit is so 
much better than that of a tame one? 

Ta/pa. I think the explanation of this fact is to be found 
in the freedom with which the wild rabbit runs about, thus 
obtaining plenty of fresh air and exercise. The flesh of the 
tame rabbit may be greatly improved by rigorous attention 
to diet and cleanliness, and by giving the animal plenty of 
room for exercise. 

Mary. I do not know anything more amusing than quietly 
to recline on the stump of some old tree, and, without being 
seen oneself, to watch the playful gambols of young and old 















CHILD AND RABBITS.—After Sir Edwin Landseer, R.A. 


[ 0 / Mr. Graves. 
P. 142. 


By permission 1 



































































































































































































































ANTICS OF RABBITS. 


143 



rabbits. The early dawn or the fall of the evening is the 
best time for watching their antics. Mr. Wood says: “ To 
describe the manifold antics of a rabbit warren would occupy 
the space which ought to be devoted to some twenty or thirty 





























144 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


animals, and even then would be quite inadequate to the pro¬ 
posed task. They are such odd, quaint, ludicrous animals, 
and are full of such comical little coquetries, and such absurd 
airs of assumed dignity, that they sorely try the gravity of 
the concealed observer, and sometimes cause him to burst 
into irrepressible laughter, to their profound dismay. 

“ At one time they are gravely pattering about the doors 
of their subterranean homes, occasionally sitting upright and 
gazing in every direction, as if fearful of a surprise, and all 
behaving with the supremest gravity. Next moment some¬ 
one gets angry, and stamps his feet fiercely on the ground, 
as a preliminary observation before engaging in a regular fight. 
Suddenly a whole party rush off at full speed, scampering 
over the ground as if they meant to run for a mile at least, 
but unexpectedly stop short at an inviting tuft of herbage, 
and nibble it composedly as if they had not run a yard. Then 
a sudden panic will flash through the whole party, and with 
a rush and a scurry every rabbit leaps into its burrow, and 
vanishes from sight like magic. The spot that was so full 
of life but a moment since is now deserted and silent, as if 
it had been uninhabited for ages; but in a few minutes one 
little nose is seen cautiously poked out of a burrow, the head 
and ears follow, and in a very few minutes the frightened 
rabbits have come again into the light of day, and have 
recommenced their interrupted pastimes. 

4 4 Tew animals are so easily startled as the rabbit, and with 
perfect good reason. Tor their enemies are found in so many 
directions, and under such insidious guises, that they are well 
justified in taking every possible precaution for their safety. 
Sundry rapacious birds are very fond of young rabbits, and 


i 










THE RABBIT’S ENEMIES. 


145 


swoop down unexpectedly from some unknown aerial region 
before the doomed creature can even comprehend its danger. 
Stoats and weasels make dreadful havoc in a warren, and even 
the domestic cat is sadly apt to turn poacher if a well-stocked 
warren should happen to be within easy distance of her home. 
Foxes are very crafty in the pursuit of young rabbits, and dig 
them out of the ground in a very ingenious and expeditious 



BABBITS. 


manner; while the common hedgehog is but too apt to in¬ 
dulge its appetite for flesh meat with an occasional rabbit.” 

Toni. Did you ever dig into a rabbit burrow ? You would 
find it extremely irregular in its construction, and often 
communicating with another to a remarkable extent. 

Mary. I have read that from many of ifs foes the rabbit 
escapes by diving suddenly into its burrow; but there are 
some animals, such as the stoat, weasel, and ferret, which 

u 









146 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 




follow it into its abode, and slay it within the precincts of its 
own home. Dogs, especially those of the small terrier breeds, 
will often force their way into the 
rabbit burrows, and have sometimes 
paid the penalty of their life for their 
boldness. The rabbit has been seen to 
watch a terrier dog safely into one of 
the burrows, and then to fill up the 
entrance so effectually, that the invader 
has not been able to retrace his steps, 
and has perished miserably beneath the 
surface of the ground. 





























FANCY RABBITS, 


147 


Freddie. That reminds me of the man in “ Marmion,” who 
w r as walled up. 

Tom. Yes, when people persecuted each other like 
wild beasts. 

Freddie. I should like to hear something about fancy 
rabbits. 



PERFECT I.OP. 


Faya. These vary according to the taste of the times. 
Forty years ago the smut, or a mark on one side of the nose, 
was the most precious sign among fanciers. There are three 
sorts of smut: the single, double, and butterfly smut. It 
ought to be darker than any other part of the fur. The finest 
specimens had a black smut. The single smut was a patch 
of colour on one side of the nose. The double was a patch 














148 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


on eacli side. The butterfly is a double smut, with a mark of 
the same colour running a little distance up the ridge of the 
nose, in such a manner that the whole resembles in shape a 
butterfly reversed, of which the two marks on the sides are 
the wings, and that on the front of the nose the body 
and tail. 



DEW-LAP. 


- Edith . These points are not now considered of first im¬ 
portance. The long-lopped ear is indispensable; it must be 
very long, and have a peculiar form. Next, the dew-lap is 
attended to if the animal is in its prime. Next, the colours 
and markings on the fur; and, lastly, the shape and general 
appearance. 













TIIB HALF-LOP. 


149 


Tom. It is astonishing how much the kind treatment 
and careful breeding of animals has to do, not only with their 
general appearance, hut with their temper, character, and 
beauty. A striking illustration of this fact is to he found in 
the cattle which roam over the great plains of Piedmont. 
They are extremely beautiful. The Lombard ox bears the 



HALF-LOP. 


same relation to the Lincolnshire animal, that the Apollo 
Belvedere does to a London drayman. The tint of the horned 
cattle deepens from light cream to the richest auburn. Their 
firm and majestic forms, combining symmetry with strength, 
and elegance with force and weight, animate the surrounding 
landscape, and hence are often introduced into the pictures of 













150 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 



Italian scenery. They also occupy no unimportant place in 
the most sacred subjects, such as the thanksgiving of ]S T oah, 
and the birth of our Blessed Lord. Perhaps the most 

remarkable feature about them 
is their long black eyebrows, 
giving a singular and almost 
human expression to the head, 
especially when seen in profile. 

Mary. Does this strange, weird 
look help to account for their 
having been worshipped by the 
ancient Egyptians ? 

Papa. It is well for you to 
WAKREN know that rabbits in a warren 

are considered by the law ferce natura , that is, wild by nature. 
If they wander out of their enclosure and eat up* the crops 

of the neighbouring farmer, he 
cannot recover damages from the 
owner of the warren any more 
than if blackbirds and rooks, 
building in one man’s garden, 
were to plunder the produce of 
another garden in the neighbour¬ 
hood. The owner or occupier 
of the former garden would clearly 
not be answerable for such de¬ 
predations. 

Charlotte. Why is it that the 
female rabbit often eats up her own young? 

George. This habit was considered natural to the animal, 





























THE THIRSTY RABBIT. 


151 


and incurable. But it has been found, like so many other 
troublesome practices of domestic animals, the result of the 
cruelty or inconsiderateness of owners and fanciers. Many 
persons do not allow their rabbits any water. They say that 
rabbits in their wild state are never known to drink; deriving 
the liquid they need from the herbage on which they feed. 
But let it be remembered that in such cases they always take 
their meal when the dew lies heavy on the grass. They never 
eat bran, pollard, oats, bread, and other like nourishment, 
such as fanciers place in their hutches. The mother rabbit 
licks her young when they are born, and suffers from an over¬ 
whelming desire for anything that will assuage her burning 
thirst. A fancier had once a doe which he caught devouring 
its young. He instantly fetched a pan of water and placed 
it within her reach. She gave signs of great delight, and 
immediately left off her cannibal feast. All animals nursing 
their young ought to have a sufficiency of clean water supplied 
them. 

Edith. Yes, but on file other hand some humane breeders 
prefer to give the doe greens moistened, or corn steeped in 
water or milk. Tea leaves are good for this purpose. It is 
thought by many a dangerous experiment to try the effect of 
liquid on their stomachs. 

Freddie. If your rabbits eat too much green food, depend 
upon it they will he pot-bellied. 













THE SQUIRREL—THE DQRMOUSS. 


Papa. Let us occupy our minds 
to-night by conversing about the 
dormouse, and other animals of a 
similar ‘kind. 


CONVERSATION XIV. 





.*v 



SQUIRREL AND NUTS 


P. 152, 

































































































































































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* • V. 

















THE DOllMOUSE. 


153 



Freddie . Why is the dormouse so called ? 

Tom . The word means sleepy-mouse, because the little 
animal spends the greater part of its life in a slumber which is 
almost unbroken. Five or six 
of them will form themselves 
into a sort of colony, or 
Mouse Service Mutual Supply 
Association. They find a con¬ 
venient hiding-place, where 
they lay up a store of food 
for the winter. For this 
purpose they appropriate no 
small quantity of corn, beans, 
peas, and other dry provender. 

When the cold weather arrives 
they nestle together, and sleep, 
only waking occasionally for 
the purpose of taking food. 

They are generally horn 
about July or August, but 
they do not become fathers 
and mothers till the summer 
of the following year. 

Charlotte . There are many 
kinds of dormice. One of 
these is called the Loire, or 

fat dormouse, and was famous DORMOUSE, 

among the Eomans as an article of luxury. They used to 
feed it for the table, in receptacles called Gliraria. 

Fdith. Have you ever observed the beautiful tints of the 


x 














154 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


fur of the common dormouse ? The ruddiness of its long 
hair, when it has grown to its full size, is very delicate and 
refined. It is easily caught in broad sunlight when fast 
asleep, and reconciles itself to a life of captivity with a 
cheerfulness almost allied to resignation and fortitude. 

Tom. Nonsense, nothing of the 
sort! It is a sleepy little animal, 
only waking in the night. It is 
generally so deeply buried in repose, 
that it can be handled without 
offering any resistance. Papa, did 
yon not complain the other, day 
that you were getting too fat? 

JPajoa. Yes, but you know that 
it is the characteristic of healthy 
men and women as they advance in life to grow fatter 
than they were in youth. 

Tom,. It may console you to know that if, like the 
dormouse, you ever take to sleeping much in winter, you will 
be able to withstand the severity of the season much better 
than if you remained a thin person. 

Edith. The dormouse is very prudent in the management 
of his provision stores. He does not put them all in one 
place, so that he would lose his entire means of sustenance 
if it were discovered, but with great skill and forethought 
he selects various little crannies for his investments, so to 
speak, against a rainy day. In doing this he sets a good 
example to many reasoning bipeds, who forget the proverb 
that it is dangerous to put all your eggs in one basket. 

George. It is a remarkable fact that very often the store 








THE DORMOUSE’S HEAD-QUARTERS, 


155 


of provision is scarcely touched during the severity of the 
winter, unless it he very mild, when the animal seems to 
awake out of sleep like a giant refreshed, resuming his 
slumber as the weather grows cold. 

Edith. For my part I never heard a more wonderful story 
of dormice than that which my friend Emily told me. She 
went one day to visit a benevolent lady of the Quaker 
persuasion, and found that one of the guests assembled had a 



pair of pet dormice. These were of course brought out to be 
admired by the company. After paying her visit, my friend 
went home, had her tea, and then went to an evening concert 
in the neighbourhood. Meanwhile one of the dormice was 
missing, and though diligent search was made it could not be 
found. Its owner sent to inquire if Emily had carried it 
away in any portion of her clothing, as no roost seems to 
please a dormouse more than the ample folds of a young lady’s 
warm winter frock. Accordingly Emily examined her dress 















156 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


carefully, but no trace could be found of the little truant. 
Emily wore lier hair in long curls, and on retiring to rest at 
night, while combing her abounding locks, she discovered 
the dormouse hiding in the very centre of a thick curl. How 
he climbed into that nest without her knowing it, and how 
he managed to hold on through all the vicissitudes of an 



evening’s occupation, will probably remain for ever an 
enigma. He was duly restored to his anxious mistress. I 
fear that good advice would have been thrown away upon 
him, as being only a dormouse he never could be able to 
comprehend words. 

Charlotte. In my humble opinion, the squirrel is by far 
the most interesting and beautiful pet of which I can form 
a conception. But I should like my darling always to 
















THE TAGUAN. 157 


continue tame, roving in the garden and the shrubbery, 
and not to be fastened in a little circular cage, only main¬ 
taining its equilibrium by violent leaps, living a life some¬ 
thing like that of a prisoner on the treadmill at Brixton. 



TAGUAN. 


All the wild ravishing grace of a squirrel’s movements 
depends upon his freedom from constraint. 

Edith. There is a kind of squirrel called the taguan. 
Its sides are constructed something like the parachutes of 
a balloon; that is, the skin of the flanks hangs so largely 
and so loosely, that when the animal is sitting at its ease, 















158 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


m 


its paws only just appear from under the 
soft folds of the delicate and fur-clad 
membrane. When it is about to fly, 
it stretches all its limbs to their full 
tension; it is a large animal for a 
squirrel, it is nearly three feet long; its . 
tail is about twenty inches in length, ||L 
measured to the end of the long jet- Ug| 
black hairs with which it is clothed. 

Tom. The English squirrel takes 
tremendous leaps for an animal of so 
small a size. I have sometimes seen it 
flinging itself from tree to tree, at such 
a giddy height as to be in danger of 
death every instant. Yet I never found 
a dead squirrel on the ground, dashed 
to pieces by 
making a false 
step. 

JPapa. No; 
that is easily 
explained. The 
English squir¬ 
rel, though he 
has not the 

thin flexible, parchment-like membrane of the flying squir¬ 
rel, yet manages to extend his legs and feet laterally in 
such a manner, and so to stiffen his tail, that he materially 
softens his fall to the ground. 

Tom. Squirrels are the most difficult things in the world 



























THE SQUIRREL’S NEST. 159 


to catch. When the sun is hot, the active little creature 
lies quietly asleep iu his nest. It is generally placed in the 
fork of some lofty branch, or in the decayed hollow of a tree 
completely out of sight. There nestles our little brown beauty, 
his bright, keen eye closed, and his bushy tail wrapped 
round him like a blanket. In the early, cool morning he 
sallies forth to procure his simple breakfast of nuts, acorns, 
fruits, and seeds, and in like manner when the shades of 
evening gather. I do not know to what race of men to 
compare him. lie is like the Spaniard in his fondness 
for a siesta, and as frolicsome as an Irishman at a fair. 
Like the dormouse, he hides little stores of provision against 
the winter, and his memory is so accurate that lie never 
forgets, however thickly the ground may he covered with 
snow, the spots where he has placed his treasures. 

Mary . Have you ever seen a squirrel eating a nut ? 

Edith. Yes, two or three times 
I have had an opportunity of 
seeing this comical and suggestive 
sight. The squirrel is an example 
to the housewife going to market, 
and of a schoolboy buying fruit 
in the street; as the nuts grow 
ripe on the trees he examines 
them with a critical eye. He 

rejects every unsound nut. He 

quickly discovers if it has a 
hole in it. When he has found a nut that just suits 
him he takes it in his fore-paws, seats himself daintily on 
his hind-legs with his tail for a cushion, and then, lifting 















160 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


the nut to his mouth, chisels out the tip with his incisor 
teeth. He next breaks away the shell, divests the kernel 
of its husk, and enjoys the inside with all the gusto of a 
connoisseur. It seems to find equal pleasure in gnawing 
through the shell of a filbert, a walnut, a chestnut, or an 
acorn. 

Charlotte . Do you know what it feeds upon when its 

favourite fruits are not to he obtained? 

Mary. Yes, it nibbles young shoots, and tender buds of 
trees, and thus stunts the growth of half a young plantation. 

Papa. In consequence of this propensity squirrels are 
often destroyed by the woodman when he can catch them; 
a task by no means easy. But the new and deeper philo¬ 
sophy concerning the providential reasons of animal increase 
and peculiar instincts which is the product of these latter 
days, maintains that the plantations are thinned and strength¬ 
ened by the so-called depredations of the squirrel, as effectually 
as by the axe of the most skilful woodcraft. 

Tom. You must all beware of buying a squirrel in the 
street of an unknown person. They catch a wild squirrel, 
as fierce and spiteful as any wild animal can be, when 
suddenly reduced to a state of captivity. They drug the 
poor little creature with strychnine or some other poison, 
which kills him sooner or later, but in the meantime reduces 
him to an utter state of non-resistance. Another trick 
practised by these unscrupulous scoundrels is that of drawing 
his incisor teeth. The poor creature is supposed to be tame 
because he cannot give a good bite, whereas in point of 
fact he has been rendered physically incapable of biting 
by a cruel operation. 









THE HACKEE. 


161 


Papa. I have collected a number of pictures of squirrels 
of various kinds and countries. Some of them are very 
curious little animals. Take for instance the Hackees, or 
chipping squirrels. The description which Mr. Wood gives 
of these familiar North American quadrupeds is well worth 
perusal. It applies more or less exactly to other varieties 



THE HA(;KEE. 


of the squirrel tribe. Mr. Wood says: “The Hackee , or 
chipping squirrel, as it is sometimes termed, is one of the 
most familiar of North American quadrupeds, and is found 
in great numbers in almost every locality. It is a truly 
beautiful little creature, and deserving of notice, both on 
account of the dainty elegance of its form, and the pleasing 
tints with which its coat is decked. The general colour of 
the hackee is a brownish-grey on the back, warming into 

Y 












162 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


orange-brown on the forehead and the hinder quarters. 
Upon the back and sides are drawn five longitudinal black 
stripes and two streaks of yellowish-white, so that it is a 
most conspicuous little creature, and by these peculiar 
stripes may easily be distinguished from any other animal. 
The abdomen and throat are white. 



THE MARMOT. 


“ The length of the hackee is about eleven inches, the tail 
being about four inches and a half in length. 

44 It is one of the liveliest and briskest of quadrupeds, 
and, by reason of its quick and rapid movements, has not 
inaptly been compared to the wren. It is chiefly seen among 
brushwood and small timber, and as it whisks about the 
branches, or shoots through their interstices with its peculiar, 
quick, jerking movements, and its odd, quaint little clucking 
cry, like the chip-chipping of newly hatched chickens, the 















THE MARMOT. 163 


analogy between itself and the bird is very apparent. As 
it is found in such plenty, and is a bold little creature, it 
is much persecuted by small boys, who arm themselves 
with long sticks, and by dexterous management knock down 
many a hackee as it tries to escape from its pursuers by 
running along the rail fences. Among boys the popular 
name of the hackee is the ‘ chipmuck.’ It is a burrowing 
animal, making its little tunnels in various retired spots, 
but generally preferring an old tree, or the earth which 
is sheltered by a wall, a fence, or a bank. ‘ The burrows 
are rather complicated, and as they run to some length, 
the task of digging the animal out of its retreat is no 
easy one. 

“ The hackee moves into its winter quarters early in 
November, and, excepting occasional reappearances when¬ 
ever the sun happens to shine with peculiar warmth, is not 
seen again until the beginning of spring. The young are 
produced in May, and there is generally a second brood in 
August. Their number is about four or five. The male 
hackee is rather a pugnacious animal, and it is said that 
during their combats their tails are apt to snap asunder 
from the violence of their movements. 

“ Pretty as it is, and graceful as are its movements, it 
hardly repays the trouble of keeping it in a domesticated 
state; for its temper is very uncertain, and it is generally 
sullen towards its keeper.” 

Edith. Not long ago I met with a gentleman who had 
just come from America. He told me that in the valleys 
of the Mississippi and Missouri were several animals allied 
to the squirrel and the marmot. One is called the prairie 













164 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


dog, or wish-ton-wish. Another variety is called the seek- 
seek, because it whisks about the neighbourhood of its 
home uttering its sharp little cry of “ seek, seek, seek,” 
continually. 



PRAIRIE DOG. 


Mary. But why should they call a squirrel-like animal 
a dog. 

Edith. Most likely on account of the sharp yelp which 
it is fond of uttering, especially when it is frightened or 
excited. By-the-bye, prairie dogs are patterns and types 
of town life and municipal government. They live together 
























THE LEOPARD MARMOT. 165 


in crowds, and honeycomb the soil in all directions. At 
the same time they leave broad streets in which they do 
not permit a burrow to he made. They seem to be under 
the government of a prefect, or lord mayor, called the Big 
Dog. He governs his subjects like a patriarch king of old, 
seated at the door of his subterranean house on a little 



THE LEOPARD MARMOT, 


mound, formed by the earth that was excavated in its con¬ 
struction. Many anecdotes are told of the ludicrous effect 
produced by its gambols and manoeuvres. 

Charlotte . 1 have heard that in America they sometimes 

make pets of the pretty little leopard marmot, but that it 
is of a sour, unsocial disposition, and, like some modern 
reviewers, is apt to snap at, and bite, its best friends and 
supporters. 













CONVERSATION XV. 

DEER. 

Papa. Wliat are those animals, Freddie, that have as 
it were the skeleton of a tree growing out of their heads ? 








REINDEER. 


167 



REINDEER. 


Freddie. Of course you mean the deer, Papa; I have 
often seen them roaming about the Royal Park of Richmond. 

Papu. Yes, but we are told that, after all, deer cannot 
be distinguished or divided into varieties by merely con¬ 
sidering their horns. 

Edith. At the same time, the horns are the most won- 











168 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


derful part of a deer. In the beginning of spring, the 
male deer hides himself in the woods. Soon two lumps 
appear on liis brow, covered with a skin as soft as velvet. 
If you touch now one of these lumps, it will be found as 
hot as fire; the blood is racing through the skin, and deposits 
every moment a particle of bone. Ten weeks are sufficient 
for the growth of these great horns; they generally fall 
off in the Eebruary following, and then begin to be re¬ 
newed. 

Mary. I am told that the reindeer is the most useful 
of all the varieties. 

Tom . Yes; but, poor fellow, he is badly used. He does 
not raise his head, like a kingly stag in the park of an 
English nobleman. He is nervous, sad, and careworn. He 
looks the very type of royalty in distress. Eirst, there are 
insects which sting him from head to tail; others lay eggs 
in his ears and nostrils. The wolves hunt him down, unless 
he is under the protection of man. He becomes the slave of 
the Laplander, and has nothing to eat except moss, which 
tastes like a dry sponge. 

Edith. The poor reindeer lives upon this white lichen in the 
winter; he works away with his hoofs and head and nose to 
remove the snow which covers his food. If the ice is so 
hard that he cannot get at the moss, he sometimes dies of 
starvation. 

Tom. I believe they have no banks in Lapland, but the 
criterion of wealth is the possession of a thousand or more 
reindeer. 

Mary. The reindeer well earns his simple victuals. He 
is trained to draw sledges; he carries a heavy load upon 












By permission] THE LITTLE FAVOURITE.— After Sir Edwin Landseer, R. A. [of Mr. Graves. 

P. 169. 












































SLEDGING. 169 


his back; lie lias been known to drag as much as three 
hundred pounds’ weight, and that at the rate of nine or 
ten miles an hour. 

Tom. Yes, hut I admire the 
Laps for one thing: they punish 
a man who puts a weight of more 
than one hundred and ninety 
pounds upon a sledge, or one 
hundred and thirty upon the hack 
of the animal. 

Tcipa. ITow wonderful is the 
Providence of God ! The Laps are 
a sparse and scattered people; 
their habitations and villages are often at long distances 
from eacli other. The reindeer is exactly adapted to this 
state of things ; he can go nine miles an hour for twelve hours 
together; Lis eyes are quick and 
sparkling; he catches the faintest 
sounds of danger from afar, and 
the most wonderful thing about 
him is his keenness of smell. 

j Freddie. I have sometimes read 
about the wapiti, or Carolina stag, 
known in America by the name of 
the elk; and the caribou, which 
is the American name for a variety 
called the reindeer. But I confess, 

I should much rather hear some¬ 
thing about the stag or red deer, of which formerly so many 
thousands were found in England and Wales. 

z 
















170 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Tom. Yes, we have all heard of the New Forest, which 
was founded by Red William, the Norman king, at the 
expense of so much sorrow and suffering on the part of the 
villagers who were turned out to make way for the chase. 
There the red deer were plentiful; 

Papa. There are very few left of these animals in England 
in an unrestricted state, hut in Scotland they roam the 
waste lands in considerable numbers. 

Tom. Yes, and it is one of the amusements of Londoners 
to spend the autumn in Scotland, in order that they may 
try their coolness, and strength 3 and cunning against those 
of this magnificent brute. 

Charlotte. I have read that, 
formerly, terrible laws were enacted 
against any one who killed the 
king’s deer. If one man murdered 
another he had some hope of 
getting off, but if he slew one of 
the king’s stags, and devoured the 
royal venison, woe betide him ! 

Tom. Stags, like pigs, have 
sometimes been trained to run in 
harness, but they are not to he depended upon, and they 
are apt to turh upon the very hand that feeds them. It is 
likely before long that they will become extinct. 

Papa. You must remember that the deer which you gene¬ 
rally see in gentlemen’s parks is not, properly speaking, the 
stag or red deer, hut the fallow deer. They are smaller than 
the stag, their horns are spreading, like palms, and their 
coats are dappled with white spots. 












FALLOW DEER. 171 



FALLOW DKEfl. 


Mary. They are very tame; their food consists chiefly 
of grass, hut they like bread, and will munch an apple. 

Charlotte . Yes, and I have heard Oxford men say that 
they will eat a ham sandwich in spite of the mustard. 

Tom. Father, which animal produces the better vension, 
the stag or the fallow deer ? 












172 OTJR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


Papa. The fallow deer. The flesh of the stag is com¬ 
paratively hard and dry. But the skin of the latter makes 
excellent leather; his horns are manufactured into knife- 
handles, and hartshorn is a common name for ammonia, 
because it is made out of the shavings of his horns. 

Mary. The way to tame, and keep tame, a fallow deer 
is simply to treat him with loving-kindness. He is a teachable 
and gentle creature. If you have any fruit, or biscuit, give 
him a share and he will follow you about anywhere. 

'Tom. Yes, but in the spring you must take care of him, 
and keep out of his way, for he sometimes gets vicious, 
and attacks his dearest friends. In this respect I am afraid ° 
he is not altogether unlike some men, from whom one is 
not always certain of receiving courteous treatment. 

Papa. There are many other varieties of deeu—in fact, 
we might fill a volume in describing them all. 




















CONVERSATION XVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

Papa. I am afraid that we must 
i here close our conversations for 
the present. Two very solemn re- 
! j flections will be awakened in the 
I breast of every one who studies 
| the instinct, and habits of animals, 

I from the mighty elephant and 







































174 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


hippopotamus to the smallest insect that floats on the 
sunbeam. One is the infinite wisdom and goodness of the 
great Creator, the Governor and Preserver of the universe, 
the Pather which is in heaven. The other is the strange 
mystery which surrounds so much of the internal conscious¬ 
ness and instinctive thought which seem to he so strong 
in the minutest as in the most enormous living beings. Take 
for instance their pervading sense of the duty of self-preserva¬ 
tion. They seem to dread and avoid all pain and suffering. 
They are conscious that at some period or other they must 
die. In some animals that consciousness is of the highest 
order, since they feign that death as the last remaining 
struggle for self-preservation, when all other hopes have 
failed. In Thompson’s “Note Book of a Naturalist’’ are the 
following profound observations upon the subject:— 

44 An implanted knowledge of the termination of life must 
exist, or its effects would not he feigned, nor the anxiety 
for safety he so permanent an object. It cannot he example 
that sets the fox to simulate death so perfectly that he 
permits himself to he handled, to be conveyed to a distant 
spot, and then to be flung on a dunghill. The ultimate 
hope—escape—prompts the measure, which unaided instinct 
could not have contrived. What we, humanly speaking, 
call knowledge of the world, which is the mainspring of 
half our acts and plans, is the result of deep observation 
of character, and of the leading principles which influence 
society; and this would apply very well with fox in relation 
to fox; hut the analogy must cease here, and we can only 
say that this artifice of the fox is an extraordinary display 
of high cunning, great self-confidence, and strong resolution. 












GARDEN SPIDER. 175 


There are many insects, particularly the spider and the 
door-beetle, which feign death when seized by the hand.” 

Mary. What a wonderful problem these observations 
present! How much or how little do animals really know ? 

Tom. The “Times” newspaper of June the 6th, 1868* 
commences a leading article with the following questions* 



GARDEN OR CROS3 SPIDER. 


which present this problem in a concrete form: “ Does any 
horse know that he is thorough-bred, and not a butcher’s 
hack ? Does he know the difference between a gentleman’s 
carriage and a scavenger’s cart ? He appreciates sweet voices, 
gentle movements, and soft hands, hut does he feel the 















176 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 




observance and the flattery ? ” Persons will probably an¬ 
swer this question according to their mental constitution. 
Some, drily reasoning, will doubt the fact, if they do not 

ridicule the whole notion. Others 
of an imaginative and sentimental 
turn, will believe it. In fact, 
notwithstanding all our study of 
natural history, we know very 
little of the inner life of animals, 
of the conditions of their con¬ 
sciousness, of the methods by 
which they communicate with each 
other, or the nature and limits of 
such communication. 

Mary: It would seem that the instinct of self-preservation 
often develops strange sympathies and antipathies in animals. 

The following anecdote, extracted 
from the life of Captain John 
Barrett in the “ Biographia Hiber- 
nica,” strongly illustrates this 
point, and casts some small light 
upon one side of the mysterious 
problem we are discussing. At any 
rate it may lead us to think more 
kindly of an animal which is 
usually regarded as the emblem 
and type of ferocious cruelty, 
treachery, and cunning. 

“ The fate of Lieutenant Salsford was distinguished by 
a singularity which we cannot forbear recording:—A large 



















ANECDOTE OF A WOLF. 177 


tame wolf, cauglit at Aspro, and brought up from a cub 
by the ship s company, and exceedingly docile, continued 
to the last an object of general solicitude. Sensible of its 
danger, its howls were peculiarly 
distressing. He had always been 
a particular favourite of the 
lieutenant, and through the whole 
of their sufferings he kept close 
to his master. On the breaking 
up of the ship, both got upon 
the mast. At times they were 
washed off, but, by each other’s 
assistance, regained it. The lieu¬ 
tenant at last became exhausted 
by continued exertion, and benumbed with cold. The wolf 
was equally fatigued, and both held occasionally by the other 
to retain his station. When within a short distance of the 
land, Lieutenant Salsford. affected by the attachment of the 
animal, and totally unable any longer to support himself, 
turned towards him from the mast; the beast clasped his 
fore-paws round his neck, while the lieutenant clasped him 
in his arms, and they sunk together.” 

Edith. Ho animals live in a future state? 

Freddie. I would rather not try to answer that question, 
but I once met with a lady who called my attention to an 
ingenious little tract called 44 The Paradise of Animals.” 
Miss Catherine Sinclair quotes it in her 44 Kaleidoscope of 
Anecdotes and Aphorisms.” The story describes the ascent 
of a balloon, which rises with a degree of buoyant velocity 
defying the power of man to control, until at length the 

A A 

















178 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


bewildered aeronaut within is driven upon an unknown 
planet, where his equipage is greatly damaged, and he 
hurriedly alights. On glancing around he sees a country 
of inexpressible beauty, but for some time 
this planetary Crusoe can discover no in¬ 
habitants. After some hours of profound 
repose, however, he awakens to find him¬ 
self surrounded by a perfect Noah’s Ark 
of animals, by a crowd containing delegates 
from every species that ever inhabited the 
earth, and all evidently in a state of 
tumultuous agitation. This newly-dis¬ 
covered planet is, in fact, “ The Paradise 
of Animals;” therefore all the inhabitants are in conster¬ 
nation that their old enemy, man, has intruded on the scene 
of their felicity. A veto is instantly promulgated against 
him, and a general resolution is formed that all the injuries 
inflicted on animals during the last century by mankind 
shall now be revenged by putting the stranger to the cruellest 
death that can be devised. He is unanimously condemned, 
but it is resolved that before consigning him to the torture, 
each animal shall detail all the injuries that his race has 
suffered on earth from mankind. The catalogue rapidly 
swells to a fearful magnitude, as each indignant witness 
bears his overwhelming testimony against man, while one 
tragical tale after another causes the incensed and alarmed 
auditory to be more impatient to secure their safety and 
to wreak their vengeance. 

The captive, in despair, now covers his face with his hands, 
and the infuriated animals are about to tear him in pieces, 

















































180 


OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


not analogous to their instinct; that is, a faculty which, appa¬ 
rently starting from a higher point than reason, was at first 

dawning in an infant, stops short, 
and never advances in an appreci¬ 
able degree, 

Tom , I should like us to dis¬ 
cuss for a few moments the 
question of the immortality of the 
spiritual nature of animals. Is 
the idea of the untutored Indian, 
who wishes his faithful dog to 
bear him company in another 
world, altogether visionary? 

Tapa. This question is one of 
great interest, and is not so easily 
disposed of at first sight as many 
imagine, Tor myself, I confess I 
incline to the opinion that beasts 
have, properly speaking, no souls. 


4 

V 


i 


























HAVE BEASTS SOTJLS ? 


181 


This seems to be the doctrine of the Holy Bible. In the third 
chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes the following remarkable 
passage appears :— 

“ 17. I said in mine heart, God shall judge the righteous 
and the wicked: for there is a time there for every purpose 
and for every work. 

“ 18. I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the 
sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they 
might see that they themselves are beasts, 

“19. Eor that which befalletli the sons of men befalletli 
beasts; even one thing befalletli them: as the one dietli, 
so dietli the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that 
a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast: for all is vanity. 

“ 20. All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all 
turn to dust again. 

“ 21. Who knoweth the spirit of man that goetli upward, 
and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth ? 

“22. Wherefore I per¬ 
ceive that there is no¬ 
thing better, than that a 
man should rejoice in his 
own works; for that is 
his portion: for who shall 
bring him to see what 
shall be after him?” 

Mary. The point of 
this passage seems to be 
that beasts and man are 
subject to the same dis¬ 
eases, casualties, and pain; 





















182 OUR DUMB NEIGHBOURS. 


tliat both sooner or later will die, and that with pangs of equal 
intensity and duration; that both have one breath of life, 
which is in their nostrils, and by which the beasts perform 
the same animal functions as ourselves. The great difference 
between man and brutes is, that the life of the beast utterly ! 
ends with the death of the body, whereas the soul of man, 
that is, his rational spirit, will live for ever. 

Edith. It seems to me that the proper solution of this 
question is found in our regarding creation as a sort of 
ladder. That the Creator is pleased to begin with minute 
atoms of animated life; that He proceeds upwards from 
these through all the ranges of the living, breathing, busy 
family, bound together by the ties of a common creature- 
hood, which we call the animal creation. At the summit 
of the scale stands man, made in the image of God, made 
a little lower than the angels. May we not then be said 
to stand before animals as the representatives of Divine 
providence and care ? Ought we not to regard beasts and 
birds, fishes and reptiles, as entitled to some crumbs of 
sympathy and indulgence? If this life is the final existence 
of my dog and my horse, is it not my duty to make it as 
much like heaven and as little like hell as lies in my 
power — remembering that the Supreme Governor of the 
universe will exact from every one of us, his vicegerents, a 
strict account of our stewardship ? 

Tom. You properly compare creation to a ladder, but it 
is something like that which Jacob beheld in the vision when 
he laid his head on the stone in the desert, and saw the 
angels ascending and descending. Or it may be likened to 
a scale of music beginning with the simplest note of melody, 













THE LADDER OF CREATION. 18*3 


and ending with the most ravishing harmonies. It was 
perhaps in this way that the morning stars sang aloud for 
joy, and the Greek philosopher heard the music of the 
spheres. For just as all animated beings are interdependent, 
there being links of connexion between those that seem to 
stand furthest apart from each other, so we may presume 
that there are ranges of being as far above man as the 
insects are beneath him, and we get a floating presumption 
of the existence of angels and archangels which revelation, 
so to speak, crystallizes and asserts with certainty. 
































HOW 


WISDOM HAST THOU MADE THEM ALL 


THY RICHES, 


Psalm civ. 24 


... Jt- " N 





































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